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Series 
(Monographs) 


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microfiches 
(monographies) 


Canadian  Institute  for  Historical  Microreproductions  /  Instltut  Canadian  de  microreproductions  historiques 


1996 


Technical  and  Bibliographic  Notes  /  Notes  techniques  et  bibliographiques 


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d'impression  ou  d'illustration  et  en  terminant  par 
la  derniire  page  qui  comporte  une  telle 
empreinte. 

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dernidre  image  de  cheque  microfiche,  selon  le 
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symboie  V  signifie  "FIN". 

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et  de  haut  en  bas,  en  prenant  le  nombre 
d'images  ndcessaire.  Les  diagrammes  suivants 
illustrent  la  m6thode. 


1  2  3 


1  2  3 

4  5  6 


^rw¥^r^%i  ^^^.JiSisiys^ 


MICROCOPY   RESOIUTION   TEST  CHA«T 

(ANSI  and  ISO  TEST  CHART  No.  2) 


^       ^PPLir 


■M/^GE 


1653    East    '.---n    Slreet 
Rochester.    •.»*    York         U609       u- i 
('16)    482  ~  OJOO  -  Phone  '^■'* 

(716)   288-  5989  -Fax 


/ 


The  TRIUMPHS  of 

EUGENE  VALMONX 

By 
ROBERT    BARR 


D.  APPLETON   AND   COMPANY 

NEW  YORK 

1906 


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r<iPVRl(;nT,    lc;o4,    1901;,   BV 

THE  CURTIS  PUiil.ISHING  COMPANY 

(?0PVRi(iiiT,   iyo6,  iiy 
D.  APPI.KTON  ANIJ  COMPANY 


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V    , 


FuhlMiKl  March,  1906  '    Ij 

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"Selected  a  little  iron  .n.dtix  .  .  .  ,he  work  of  some  ancient 

craftsman." 


CONTENTS 


I  -The  Ft^DrNT,  of  the  .  ated  Five  Hundred 
ir.— The  Scene  fn  the  Sale  Room 
Iir.— Ti.     MiDMoriT  Race  Do\v>f  the  Seine  . 
IV.— The  Oddities  ok  the  Fnt.lisii 
\'.-  -The  Siamese  Twin  of  a  Boxin  Thrower 
VI.— A  Rehiff  and  a  Response 
VII.— In  the  r.RiP  CF  THE  Green  Demon- 
VIII.— The  Faie  of  the  Picric  Bomb 
IX.-Tme  Dinner  tor  Seven  in  the  Temple" 
X.— The  Clew  of  the  Silvek  Spoons 
XI  -"O  My  Prophetic  Soul,  My  Uncle!"  . 
XII.     Lord  Chizelrioo's  Missing  Fortune 
XIII.-The  I- utility  of  a  Search  Warra.nt     [ 
XIV  -Mr.  Spenser  Hale  of  Scotland  Yard  . 
XV.-The  Stra:.oe  House  in  Park  Lane 
X\'I.-The  Queer  Shop  in  Tottenham  Court  Road 
X\  II.— The  .Ahse.v't-minded  Coteime 
WIH.-The  Sad  Cask  of  Sophia  ISrooks 
XI.X.-A  Commission  from  Lord  Rantpkmlv 
XX.— The  Ghost     ith  the  Clubfoot 
XXI.— The  Secret  of  a  Nc^le  House 

XXII.— LlBERATINO    the    \Vr,  .V(S    Man 

XXIII.-The  Fascinatint.  Lady  Alicia 
XXIV.— Where  the  Fmeralds  were  Fov.sd 


PAGF 
I 

10 

26 

40 

57 
71 
Ho 

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102 
III 

148 

•65 
'7' 
182 

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200 

224 
240 

250 
267 

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LIST  OF  ILLUSTRATIONS 


PACINO 

•'Selected  .  little  iron  crucifix  .  .  .  ,he  work  of  K,mc  nncient   ""' 
craltsman       .        . 

rrBHtitfitct 

"I  returned  the  »,are  with  such  composure  a,  I  could  bring  to 
my  aid  " 

84 

'  Then,  sitting  up.  he  began  playing  with  this  infernal  machine  "      94 
"  He  had  never  seen  the  earl  so  angry  before  "  .        .  .     ,(„ 

'"Because.  M-    Valmont,  it  did  not  belong  to  you 

you  stole  it  ■ "       ,  »       /       .  .  . 

.      332 

'"He  fell  backward  and  his  head  struck  the  sharp  stone  at  the 
foot  of  the  altar "'  f  i  mc 

.     236 


"His  dead  comrades  ask  the  traitor  to  join  them  •". 
'  Mr.  Jonas  Carter  "... 


•     294 
.     316 


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safc^JT, 


^'WK'- 


THE  TRIUMPHS 
OF  EUGfeNE  VALMONT 


CHAPTER   I 

THE  riND.N.C  or  T„E  FATED  „VE  HUNDRED 

IHEN  I  say  I  an,  called  \-almont,  the  name 

will  convey  no  impression  to  the  reader 

one  way  or  another.     My  occnpation  is 

that  of  private  detective  in  London,  but 

Vol        .  ,      ■'""  "*  ""•'■  P°'i«-n,an  in  Paris  who 

■s  a    ecent  reeru.t.     If  you  ask  hin,  where  Vahnon,  it 

rp:;-si:fpX""--''------o-t: 

For  a  |x;rio,i  of  seven  years  I  was  chief  detective  to 
he  Gover„„,ent  of  l-ranee.  an,,  if  ,  an,  unable  to  pro  ^ 
mjself  a  great  cr,n,e  hunter,  it  is  because  the  record  of 
my  career  ,s  ,n  the  secret  archives  of  Paris 

to  a!r"'°Th"'r'  ",""  ""'"■'  '"••"  '  •■"«■  "°  ^""•ances 
fied    n    ,      '•  "-""-nt  considered  itself  justi- 

::!  ;,;:r:::r:!^.:"^-"  ■■  "^'i  -  '-  "hs  action  i. 


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'"  'ts  right,  and  I  should  be  the  last 


to 


I'  A  i.'inij'i^ 


The  Triumphs  of  Eugene  Valmont 

dispute  that  right;  but,  on  the  other  hand,  I  consider 
myself  justified  in  publishing  the  following  account  of 
what  actually  occurred,  especially  as  so  many  false  ru- 
mors have  been  put  abroad  concerning  the  case     How- 
ever, as  I  said  at  the  beginning,  I  hold  no  grievance 
because  my  worldly  affairs  are  now  much  more  prosper- 
ous than  they  were  in  Paris,  my  intimate  knowledge  of 
that  city  and  the  country  of  which  it  is  the  capital  bring- 
mg  to  me  many  cases  with  which  I  have  dealt  more  or 
less  successfully  since  I  established  myself  in  London 

Without  further  preliminary  I  shall  at  once  plunge 
mto  an  account  of  the  case  which  riveted  the  attention 
of  the  whole  world  a  little  more  than  a  decade  ago. 

The  year  1893  was  a  prosperous  twelve  months  for 
France.  The  weather  was  good,  the  harvest  excellent 
and  the  wme  of  that  vintage  is  celebrated  to  this  day 
Everyone  was  well  off  and  reasonably  happy,  a  marked 
contrast  to  the  state  of  things  a  few  years  later,  when 
dissension  over  the  Dreyfus  case  rent  the  country  in 
twain. 

Newspaper  readers  may  remember  that  in  1803  the 
Government  of  France  fell  heir  to  an  unexpected  treas- 
ure which  set  the  civilized  world  agog,  especially  those 
inhabitants  of  it  who  are  interested  in  historical  relics 
This  was  the  finding  of  the  diamond  necklace  in  the 
Chateau  de  Chaumont,  where  it  had  rested  undiscovered 
for  a  century  in  a  rubbish  heap  of  an  attic.    I  believe  it 
has  not  been  questioned  that  this  was  the  veritable  neck- 
lace which  the  court  jeweler.  Boehmer.  hoped  to  sell  to 
Mane  Antoinette,  although  how  it  came  to  be  in  the 


The  Finding  of  the  Fated  Five  Hundred 

Chateau  de  Chaumont  no  one  has  been  able  to  form  even 
a  conjecture.    For  a  hundred  years  it  was  supposed  that 
the  necklace  had  been  broken  up  in  London,  and  its 
half  a  thousand  stones,  great  and  small,  sold  separately. 
It  has  always  seemed  strange  to  me  that  the  Countess 
de  Lamotte-Valois,  who  was  thought  to  have  profited  by 
the  sale  of  these  jewels,  should  not  have  abandoned 
France  if  she  possessed  money  to  leave  that  country  for 
exposure  was  inevitable  if  she  remained.     Indeed,'  the 
unfortunate  woman  was  branded  and  imprisoned.'  and 
afterwards  was  dashed  to  death  from  the  third  story  of 
a  London  house,  when,  in  the  direst  poverty,  she  sought 
escape  from  the  consequences  of  the  debts  she  had 
incurred. 

I  am  not  superstitious  in  the  least,  yet  this  celebrated 
piece  of  treasure-trove  seems  actually  to  have  exerted  a 
malign  influence  over  everyone  who  had  the  misfortune 
to  be  connected  with  it.     Indeed,  in  a  small  way.  I  who 
write    these    words    suffered    dismissal    and    disgrace 
though  I  caught  but  one  glimpse  of  this  dazzling  scintil- 
lation of  jewels.     The  jeweler  who  made  the  necklace 
met  financial  ruin;  the  Queen  for  whom  it  was  con- 
structed  was  beheaded;   that   high-born   Prince   Louis 
Rene  Edouard,  Cardinal  de  Rohan,  who  purchased  it. 
was  flung  into  prison;  the  unfortunate  countess,  who 
said  she  acted  as  go-between  until  the  transfer  was  con- 
cluded, clung  for  five  awful  minutes  to  a  London  win- 
dow sill  before  dropping  to  her  death  to  the  flags  below  • 
and  now,  a  hundred  and  eight  years  later,  up  comes  this' 
devil's  display  of  fireworks  to  the  light  again! 

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The  Triumphs  of  Eugene  Valmont 


Droulliard,  the  workingman  who  found  the  ancient 
box,  seems  to  have  pried  it  open,  and  ignorant  though 
he  was— he  had  probably  never  seen  a  diamond  in  his 
life  before— realized  that  a  fortune  was  in  his  grasp. 
The  baleful  glitter  from  the  combination  must  have  sent 
madness  into  his  brain,  working  havoc  therein  as  though 
the   shafts   of  brightness    were   those   mysterious    rays 
which   scientists   have   recently   discovered.     He   might 
quite  easily  have  walked  through  the  main  gate  of  the 
chateau   unsuspected   and   unquestioned    with    the   dia- 
monds concealed  about  his  person,  but  instead  of  this 
he  crept  from  the  attic  window  on  to  the  steep  roof, 
slipped  to  the  eaves,  fell  to  the  ground,  and  lay  dead 
with  a  broken  neck,  while  the  necklace,  intact,  shim- 
mered in  the  sunlight  beside  his  body. 

No  matter  where  these  jewels  had  been  found  the 
Government  would  have  insisted  that  they  belonged  to 
the  treasury  of  the  Republic;  but  as  the  Chateau  de 
Chaumont  was  an  historical  monument,  and  the  property 
of  France,  there  could  be  no  question   regarding  the 
ownership  of  the  necklace.     The  Government  at  once 
claimed  it,  and  ordered  it  to  be  sent  by  a  trustworthy 
military  man  to  Paris.     It  was  carried  safely  and  de- 
livered promptly  to  the  authorities  by  Alfred  Dreyfus, 
a  young  captain  of  artillery,  to  whom  its  custody  had 
been  intrusted. 

In  spite  of  its  fall  from  the  tall  tower  neither  case 
nor  jewels  were  perceptibly  damaged.  The  lock  of  the 
box  had  apparently  been  forced  by  Droulliard's  hatchet, 
or  perhaps  by  the  clasp-knife  found  on  his  body.    On 


^^^i^^li-  ^  , 


The  Finding  of  the  Fated  Five  Hundred 


reaching  the  ground  the  Hd  had  flown  open,  and  the 
necklace  was  ihrown  out. 

I  believe  there  was  some  discussion  in  the  cabinet 
regarding  the  fate  of  this  ill-omened  trophy,  one  section 
wishing  it  to  be  placed  in  a  museum  on  account  of  its 
historical  interest,  another  advocating  the  breaking  up 
of  the  necklace  and  the  selling  of  the  diamonds   for 
what  they  would  fetch.     But  a  third  party  maintained 
that  the  method  to  get  the  most  money  into  the  coflfers 
of  the  country  was  to  sell  the  necklace  as  it  stood,  for  as 
the  world  now  contains  so  many  rich  amateurs  who  col- 
lect undoubted  rarities,  regardless  of  expense,  the  his- 
toric associations  of  the  jeweled  collar  would  enhance 
the  intrinsic  value  of  the  stones ;  and,  this  view  prevail- 
ing, it  was  announced  that  the  necklace  would  be  sold 
by  auction  a  month  later  in  the  rooms  of  Meyer,  Renault 
&  Co.,  in  the  Boulevard  des  Italiens,  near  the  Bank  of 
the  Credit-Lyonnais, 

This  announcement  elicited  much  comment  from  the 
newspapers  of  all  countries,  and  it  seemed  that,  from  a 
financial  point  of  view  at  least,  the  decision  of  the  Gov- 
ernment had  been  wise,  for  it  speedily  became  evident 
that  a  notable  coterie  of  wealthy  buyers  would  be  con- 
gregated in  Paris  on  the  thirteenth   (unlucky  day  for 
me!)  when  the  sale  was  to  take  place.     But  we  of  the 
inner  circle  were  made  aware  of  another  result  some- 
what more  disquieting,  which  was  that  the  most  expert 
criminals  in  the  world  were  also  gathering  like  vultures 
upon  the  fair  city.    The  honor  of  France  was  at  stake. 
Whoever  bought  that  necklace  must  be  assured  of  a  safe 


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The  Triumphs  of  Eugene  Falmont 


conduct   out   of   the   country.    We   might   view    with 
equanimity  whatever  happened  afterwards,  but  while  he 
was  a  resident  of  France  his  life  and  property  must  not 
be  endangered.    Thus  ^t  came  about  that  I  was  given 
full  authority  to  insure  that  neither  murder  nor  theft 
nor  both  combined  should  be  committed  while  the  pur- 
chaser of  the  necklace  remained  within  our  boundaries, 
and  for  this  purpose  the  police  resources  of  France  were' 
placed  unreservedly  at  my  disposal.    If  I  failed  there 
should  he  no  one  to  blame  but  myself;  consequently,  as 
I  have  remarked  before,  I  do  not  complain  of  my  dis- 
missal by  the  Government. 

The  broken  lock  of  the  jewel  case  had  been  very 
deftly  repaired  by  an  expert  locksmith,  who  in  executing 
his  task  was  so  unfortunate  as  to  scratch  a  finger  on  the 
broken  metal,  whereupon  blood  poisoning  set  in,  and 
although  his  life  was  saved,  he  was  dismissed  from  the 
hospital  with  his  right  arm  gone  and  his  usefulness 
destroyed. 

When  the  jeweler  Boehmer  made  the  necklace  he 
asked  eight  hundred  thousand  dollars  for  it,  but  after 
years  of  disappointment  he  was  content  to'  sell  it  to 
Cardinal  de  Rohan  for  three  hundred  and  twenty  thou- 
sand dollars,  to  be  liquidated  in  three  installments,  not 
one  of  which  was  ever  paid.  This  latter  amount  was 
probably  somewhere  near  the  value  of  the  five  hundred 
and  sixteen  separate  stones,  one  of  which  was  of  tre- 
mendous size,  a  very  monarch  of  diamonds,  holding  its 
court  among  seventeen  brilliams  each  as  large  as  a 
filbert.    This  iridescent  concentration  of  wealth  was   as 

6 


w  Ci'-^iir 


The  Finding  of  the  Fated  Five  Hundred 


I 

I 
i 


one  might  say,  placed  in  my  care,  tnH  I  had  to  see  to  it 
that  no  harm  came  to  the  necklace  or  to  its  prospective 
owner  until  they  were  safely  across  the  boundaries  of 
France. 

The  four  weeks  previous  to  the  thirteenth  proved  a 
busy  and  anxious  time  for  me.  Thousands,  most  of 
whom  were  actuated  by  mere  curiosity,  wished  to  view 
the  diamonds.  We  were  compelled  to  discriminate,  and 
sometimes  discriminated  against  the  wrong  person, 
which  caused  unpleasantness.  Three  distinct  attempts 
were  made  to  rob  the  safe,  but  luckily  these  criminal 
efforts  were  frustrated,  and  so  we  came  unscathed  to  the 
eventful  thirteenth  of  tiie  month. 

The  sale  was  to  begin  at  two  o'clock,  and  on  the 
morning  of  that  day  I  took  the  somewhat  tyrannical 
precaution  of  having  the  more  dangerous  of  our  own 
malefactors,  and  as  many  of  the  foreign  thieves  as  I 
could  trump  up  charges  against,  laid  by  the  heels.    Yet 
I  knew  very  well  it  was  not  these  rascals  I  had  most  to 
fear,  but  the  suave,  well-groomed  gentlemen,  amply  sup- 
plied with  unimpeachable  credentials,  stopping  at  our 
fine  i:otels  and  living  like  princes.    Many  of  these  were 
foreigners  against  whom  we  could  prove  nothing,  and 
whose  arrest  might  land  us  into  temporary  international 
difficulties.    Nevertheless,  I  had  each  of  them  shadowed, 
and  on  the  morning  of  the  thirteenth  if  one  of  them  had 
even  disputed  a  cab  fare  I  should  have  had  him  in  prison 
half  an  hour  later,  and  taken  the  consequences ;  but  these 
gentlemen  are  very  shrewd  and  do  not  commit  mistakes. 
I  made  up  a  list  of  all  the  men  in  the  world  who  were 

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able  or  likely  to  purchase  the  necklace.     Many  of  them 
would  not  be  present  in  person  at  the  auction  rooms  • 
the.r  bidding  would  be  done  by  agents.     This  simplified 
matters  a  good  deal,  for  the  agents  kept  me  duly  in- 
formed of  their  purpo  ,s,  and.  besides,  an  agent  who 
handles  treasure  every  week  is  an  adept  at  the  business 
and  does  not  need  the  protection  which  must  surround' 
an  amateur,  who  in  nine  cases  ot,t  of  ten  has  but  scant 
Idea  of  the  dangers  that  threat,      him,  bevond  k  lowing 
that  if  he  goes  down  a  dark  street  in  a  dangerous  quarter 
he  IS  likely  to  be  maltreated  and  robbed. 

There  were  no  less  than  sixteen  clients  all  told,  whom 
we  learned  were  to  attend  personally  on  the  day  of  the 
sale,  any  one  of  whom  might  well  have  made  the  pur- 
chase. The  Marquis  of  Warlingham  and  Lord  Oxtead 
from  England  were  well-known  jewel  fanciers,  while  at 
least  half  a  dozen  millionaires  were  expected  from  the 
United  States,  with  a  smattering  from  Germany,  Aus- 
tria, and  Russia,  and  one  each  from  Italy,  Belgium  and 
Holland.  * 

Admission  to  the  auction  rooms  was  allowed  by  ticket 
only,  to  be  applied  for  at  least  a  week  in  advance  ap- 
plications to  be  accompanied  by  satisfactory  testimonials 
It  would  possibly  have  surprised  many  of  the  rich  men 
collected  there  to  know  that  they  sat  cheek  by  jowl  with 
some  of  the  most  r  ,ted  thieves  of  England  and  America, 
but  I  allowed  this  for  two  reasons :  first,  I  wished  to  keep 
these  sharpers  under  my  own  eye  until  I  knew  who  had 
bought  the  necklace;  and,  secondly.  I  was  desirous  that 
they  should  not  know  they  were  suspected. 

8 


UJ'J.-' 


The  Finding  of  the  Fated  Five  Hundred 


J 


I  stationed  trusty  men  .Aitside  on  the  Boulevard  des 
Itahens,  each  of  whom  knew  by  sight  most  of  the  prob- 
able purchasers  of  the  necklace.     It  was  arranged  that 
when  liie  sale  was  over  I  should  walk  out  to  the  boule- 
vard alongside  the  man  who  was  the  new  owner  of  the 
diamonds,  and  from  that  moment  until  he  quitted  France 
my  men  were  not  to  lose  sight  of  him  if  he  took  personal 
custody  of  the  stones,  instead  of  doing  the  sensible  and 
proper  thmg  of  having  them  insured  and  forwarded  to 
his  residence  by  some  responsible  transit  company    or 
depositing  them  in  the  bank.     In  fact,  I  took  every  pre- 
caution that  occurred  to  me.    All  police  Paris  was  on  the 
qtii  Vive,  and  felt  itself  pitted  against  the  scoundrelism 
of  the  world. 

For  one  reason  or  another  it  was  nearly  halt  past 
two  before  the  sale  began.     There  had  been  considerable 
delay  because  of  forged  tickets,  and,  indeed,  each  order 
for  admittance  was  so  closely  scrutinized  that  this  in 
Itself  took  a  good  deal  more  time  than  we  anticipated 
i-ver'  chair  was  occupied,  and  still  a  number  of  the  visi- 
tors were  compelled  to  stand.    I  stationed  m^■self  by  the 
swinging  doors  at  the  entrance  end  of  the  hall   where  I 
could  command  a  view  of  the  entire  assemblage      Some 
of  my  men  were  placed  with  backs  against  the  wall,  while 
others  were  distributed  among  the  chairs,  all  in  plain 
clothes.     During  the  sale  the  diamonds  themselves  were 
not  displayed,  but  the  box  containing  them   rested   in 
front  of  the  auctioneer,  and  three  policemen  in  uniform 
stood  guard  on  either  side. 


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CHAPTER   II 


THE  SCENE  IN  THE  SALE  ROOM 

BERY  quietly  the  auctioneer  began  by  sayu^g 
that  there  was  no  need  for  him  to  expati- 
ate on  the  notable  character  of  the  treas- 
ure he  was  privileged  to  offer  for  sale, 
and   with   this   preliminary   he   requested 
those  present  to  bid.     Some  one  offered  twenty  thousand 
francs,  which  was  received  with  much  laughter;  then 
the  bidding  went  steadily  on  until  it  reached  nine  hun- 
'red  thousand  francs,  which  I  knew  to  be  less  than  half 
the  reserve  the  Government  had  placed  upon  the  neck- 
lace.   The  contest  advanced  more  slowly  until  the  mil- 
lion and  a  half  was  touched,  and  there  it  hung  fire  for  a 
time,  while  the  auctioneer  remarked  that  this  sum  did 
not  equal  that  which  the  maker  of  the  necklace  had 
finally  been  forced  to  accept  for  it.    After  another  pause 
he  added  that,  as  the  reserve  was  not  exceeded,  the  neck- 
lace would  be  withdrawn,   and   probably   never  again 
offered  for  sale.     He  therefore  urged  those  who  were 
holding  back  to  make  their  bids  now.     At  this  the  con- 
test livened  until  the  sum  of  two  million  three  hundred 
thousand  francs  had  been  offered,  and  now  I  knew  the 
necklace  would  be  sold.     Nearing  the  three  /-illion  mark 
the  competition  thinned  down  to  a  few  dealers  from 

10 


The  Scene  in  the  Sale  Room 


H^burg  and  ,l,e  Marquis  of  Warlingham.  from  Ene- 
land,  when  a  voice  that  had     -.  yet  L„  heard  ,„  .5 
auction  roc™  .as  Hfted  in  a  tone  oVsome "„;"  e    ."" ' 
One  million  dollars  I  " 
There  was  an  instant  h„sl,,  followed  bv  the  scrib- 
ing of  pencis,  as  each  person  present  re,l„ced  the  ,"m 
EneshT   '"V"  ''''  °""  "-™0-po„nds  for  ,h" 
TtlTuT,  "Sgressive  tone  and  the  clear-cut  face 

the  financM  denomination  he  had  used.     In  a  moment 
.  was  real,«d  that  his  bid  was  a  clear  leap  oTl 
than  two  million  francs,  and  a  sigh  went  up  fromThe 
audience  as  if  this  settled  it,  and  the  grea'     rwa! 

or.he^Tft;:ir;„Th:TTd "-'"-  ^^ 

;on.  line  of  faces  r„r::rrr.rt^Zd"*! 
luctant  to  tan  the  hnarri    k.,*  »ccinea  re- 

n.f«  ,  "p  ine  board,  but  no  one  ventured  to  com- 

cust'Zr"  "'""'"  •"  "*"■'  '^""'•"^  °-^  '-™^<'  'h' 

"Cash,"  replied  the  American;  "here's  a  check  for 
•he  amount,    ril  take  the  diamonds  with  me  " 

Your  request  is  somewhat  unusual,"  protested  the 
auctioneer  mildly. 

can"  "™r,h"Ir'./°".""'"''  '"""""•'"'  *=  Ameri- 

wiU  not^^-,   ^"^      '  ""''  ™-"  "°'  >«  -^hed.    You 
will  not  ce  ,t  IS  drawn  on  the  Crcdit-Lv     ,;.   ^^.h  is 

practically  next  door.    I  must  have  th  .s'^Am:! 

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Send  round  your  messenger  with  the  check ;  it  will  take 
only  a  few  ir"  .utes  to  find  out  whether  or  not  the  money 
is  there  to  meet  it.  The  necklace  is  mine,  and  I  insist 
on  having  it." 

The  auctioneer  with  some  demur  handed  the  check 
to  the  representative  of  the  French  Government  who 
was  present,  and  this  official  himself  went  to  the  bank. 
There  were  some  other  things  to  be  sold,  and  the  auc- 
tioneer endeavored  to  go  on  throi.jh  the  list,  but  no  one 
paid  the  slightest  attention  to  him. 

Meanwhile  I  was  studying  the  countenance  of  the 
man  who  had  made  the  astounding  bid.  when  I  should 
instead  have  adjusted  my  preparations  to  meet  the  t.. .. 
conditions  now  confronting  me.     Here  was  a  man  about 
whom  we  knew  nothing  whatever.     I  had  come  to  the 
instant  conclusion  that  he  was  a  prince  of  criminals,  and 
that  a  sinister  design,  not  at  that  moment  fathomed  by 
me,  was  on  foot  to  get  possession  of  the  jewels.    The 
handing  up  of  the  check  was  clearly  a  trick  of  some 
sort,  and  I  fully  expected  the  official  to  return  and  say 
the  draft  was  good.     I  detv  rmined  to  prevent  this  man 
from  getting  the  jewel  box  until  I  knew  more  of  his 
game.    Quickly  I  removed  from  my  place  near  the  door 
to  the  auctioneer's  desk,  having  two  objects  in  view: 
first,  to  warn  the  auctioneer  not  to  part  with  the  treasure 
too  easily;  and,  second,  to  study  the  suspected  man  at 
closer  range.    Of  all  evil-.'oers  tlie  American  is  most  to 
be  feared ;  he  uses  more  ingenuity  in  the  planning  of  his 
projects,  and  will  take  greater  rirks  in  carrying  them 
out  than  any  other  malefactor  on  earth. 

13 


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The  Scene  in  the  Sale  R 


oom 


iTom  my  new  static,  1  saw  there  were  two  men  to 
deal  wuh.     fhc  bidder's  face  was  keen  and  intellectual; 
Ins  hands  refined.  ladylike,  clean,  and  white,  showing 
they  were  long  divorced  from  manual  labor,  if  indee 
t..ey  had  ever  done  any  useful  work.    Coolness  and  im- 
perturbability were  his  beyond  a  doubt.     The  companion 
who  sat  at  his  right  was  of  an  entirely  diflferent  stamp. 
H.S  hands  were  hairy  and  sun-tanned ;  his  face  bore  the 
stamp  of  grim  determination  and  unflinching  bravery 
I  knew  that  these  two  types  usually  hunted  in  couples- 
the  one  to  scheme,  the  other  to  execute,  and  they  always 
/ormed  a  combination  dangerous  to  encoun^r  and  diffi- 
cult  to  circumvent. 

There  was  a  In.zz  of  conversation  up  and  down  the 
hall  as  these  two  men  talked  together  in  low  tones  I 
knew  now  that  I  was  face  to  face  with  the  mosf  hazard- 
ous  problem  of  my  life. 

I  wlmpered  to  the  auctioneer,  who  bent  his  Uad  to 
l>stem    He  knew  very  well  who  I  was.  of  course. 
You  must  not  give  up  the  necklace,"  I  began 
He  shrugged  his  shoulders. 

"  I  atn  under  the  orders  of  the  official  from  the  Min- 
istry of  the  Interior.    You  nmst  speak  to  him  " 

"  I  shall  not  fail  to  do  so."  I  replied.     "  Nevertheless, 
do  not  give  up  the  box  too  readily." 

"I  am  helpless,"  he  protested  with  another  shrtig 
1  obey  the  orders  of  the  Government." 
Seeing  it  was  useless  to  parley  further  with  the  auc- 
tioneer,     set  my  wits  at  work  to  meet  the  new  emer- 
gency.   I  felt  convinced  that  the  check  would  prove  to 


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be  genuine,  and  that  the  fraud,  wherever  it  lay,  might 
not  be  disclosed  in  time  to  aid  the  authorities.  My  duty, 
therefore,  was  to  make  sure  we  lost  sight  of  neither  the 
buyer  nor  the  thing  bought.  Of  course,  I  could  not 
arrest  the  purchaser  merely  on  suspicion;  besides,  it 
would  make  the  Government  the  laughing-stock  of  the 
world  if  it  sold  a  case  of  jewels  and  immediately 
placed  the  buyer  in  custody  when  it  itself  had  handed 
over  his  goods  to  him.  Ridicule  kills  in  France.  A 
breath  of  laughter  may  blow  a  governmefit  out  of 
existence  in  Paris  much  more  effectually  than  will  a 
whiff  of  cannon  smoke.  My  duty  then  was  to  give  the 
Government  full  warning,  and  never  lose  sight  of  my 
man  until  he  was  clear  of  France;  then  my  responsi- 
bility ended. 

I  took  aside  one  of  my  own  men  in  plain  clothes  and 
said  to  him: 

"  You  have  seen  the  American  who  has  bought  the 
necklace  ? " 

"  Yes,  sir." 

"Very  well.  Go  outside  quietly  and  station  your- 
self there.  He  is  likely  to  emerge  presently  with  the 
jewels  in  his  possession.  You  are  not  to  lose  sight  of 
either  the  man  or  the  casket.  I  shall  follow  him  and 
be  close  behind  him  as  he  emerges,  and  you  are  to  i 
shadow  us.  If  he  parts  with  the  case  you  must  be  ready 
at  a  sign  from  me  to  follow  either  the  man  or  the  jewels. 
Do  you  understand  ?  " 

"  Yes,  sir,"  he  answered,  and  left  the  room. 

It  is  ever  the  unforeseen  that  baffles  us ;  it  is  easy  to 

14 


The  Scene  in  the  Sale  Room 


be  wise  after  the  event.  I  should  have  sent  two  men, 
and  I  have  often  thought  since  how  admirable  is  the 
regulation  of  the  Italian  Government  which  sends  out  its 
policemen  in  pairs.  Or  I  should  have  given  my  man 
power  to  call  for  help,  but  even  as  it  was  he  did  only 
half  as  well  as  I  had  a  right  to  expect  of  him,  and  the 
blunder  he  committed  by  a  moment's  dull-witted  hesi- 
tation—ah, well!  there  is  no  use  in  scolding.  After  all 
the  result  might  have  been  the  same. 

Just  as  my  man  disappeared  between  the  two  folding 
doors  the  official  from  the  Ministry  of  the  Interior  en- 
tered. I  intercepted  him  about  halfway  on  his  journey 
from  the  door  to  the  luctioneer. 

"  Possibly  the  check  appears  to  be  genuine,"  I  whis- 
pered to  him. 

"  But  certainly,"  he  replied  pompously.  He  was  an 
individual  greatly  impressed  with  his  own  importance; 
a  kind  of  character  with  which  it  is  always  difficult  to 
deal.  Afterwards  the  Government  asserted  that  this  offi- 
cial had  warned  me,  and  the  utterances  of  an  empty- 
headed  ass  dressed  in  a  little  brief  authority,  as  the  Eng- 
lish poet  says,  were  looked  upon  as  the  epitome  of 
wisdom. 

"  I  advise  you  strongly  not  to  hand  over  the  neck- 
lace as  has  been  requested,"  I  went  on. 
"Why?  "he  asked. 

"  Because  I  am  convinced  the  bidder  is  a  criminal." 
"  If  you  have  proof  of  that,  arrest  him." 
"  I  have  no  proof  at  the  present  moment,  but  I  re- 
quest you  to  delay  the  delivery  of  the  goods." 

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"  That  is  absurd,-  he  cried  impatiently.    "  The  neck- 
lace IS  his.  not  ours.     The  money  has  already  been  trans- 
ferred to  the  account  of  the  Government;  we  cannot 
rctam  the  five  milhon  francs,  and  refuse  to  hand  over 
to  h„n  what  he  has  bought  with  them,"  and  so  the  man 
left  me  standing  there,  nonplussed  and  anxious.     The 
eyes  of  everyone  in  the  room  had  been  turned  on  us 
dunng  our  brief  conversation,  and  now  the  official  pro- 
ceeded ostentatiously  up  the  room  with  a  grand  air  of 
importance;  then,  with  a  bow  and  flourish  of  the  hand 
he  said  dramatic  .iily  : 

"  The  jewels  belong  to  monsieur." 
The  two  Americans  rose  simultaneously,  the  tal' 
holdmg  out  his  hand  while  the  auctioneer  passed  to  him 
the  case  he  had  apparently  paid  so  highly   for     The 
American  nonchalantly  opened  the  box  and  for  the  first 
time  the  electric  radiance  of  the  jewels  burst  upon  that 
audience,  each  member  of  which  craned  his  neck  to 
behold  It.     It  seemed  to  me  a  most  reckless  thing  to  do 
He  examined  the  jewels  minutely  for  a  few  moments, 
tl:en  snapped  the  lid  shut  again,  and  calmly  put  the  box 
in  his  outside  pocket,  and  I  could  not  help  noticing  that 
the  light  overcoat  he  wore  possessed  pockets  made  ex- 
traordinarily large,  as  if  on  purpose  for  this  very  case 
An(.  aow  this  amazing  man  walked  serenely  down  the 
room  past  miscreants  who  joyfully  would  have  cut  his 
throat  for  even  the  smallest  diamond  in  that  conglomera- 
t'on;  yet  he  did  not  take  the  trouble  to  put  his  hand  on 
the  pocket  which  contained  the  case,  or  in  any  way  at- 
tempt to  protect  it.     The  assemblage  seemed  stricken 

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The  Scene  in  the  Sale  Room 


dumb  by  his  audacity.  His  friend  followed  closely  at 
his  heels,  and  the  tall  man  disappeared  through  the  fold- 
ing doors.  Not  so  the  other.  He  turned  quickly,  and 
whipped  two  revolvers  out  of  his  pockets,  which  he 
presented  at  the  astonished  crowd.  There  had  been  a 
movement  on  the  part  of  everyone  to  leave  the  room  but 
the  sight  of  these  deadly  weapons  confronting  them 
made  each  one  shrink  into  his  place  again 

The  man  with  his  back  to  the  door  spoke  in  a  loud 
a-'  dommeering  voice,  asking  the  auctioneer  to  trans- 
laie  what  he  had  to  say  into  French  and  German;  he 
spoke  in  English. 

"These  here  shiners  are  valuable;  they  belong  to 
my  friend  who  has  just  gone  out.    Casting  no  reflections 
on  the  generality  of  people  in  this  room,  there  are,  never- 
heless.   half  a   dozen   'crooks'   among  us   whom   my 
friend  wishes  to  avoid.    Now,  no  honest  man  here  will 
object  to  giving  the  buyer  of  that  there  trinket  five  clear 
minutes  in  which  to  get  away.     It's  only  the  '  crooks  ' 
that  can  kick.    I  ask  these  five  minutes  as  e  ,avor.  but 
'f  they  are  not  granted  I  am  going  to  take  them  as  a 
ngnt.    Any  man  who  moves  will   --et  shot." 

"I  am  an  honest  man,"  I  cried,  "and  I  object  I 
am  chief  detective  of  the  French  Government.  Stand 
aside ;  the  police  will  protect  your  friend." 

"  Hold  on,  my  son,"  warned  the  American,  turning 
one  weapon  directly  upon  me,  while  the  other  held  a  sort 
of  roving  commission,  pointing  all  over  the  room.  "  Mv 
fnend  is  from  New  York  and  he  distrusts  the  police  as 
much  as  he  docs  the  grafters.    You  may  be  twenty  detec- 

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tives,  but  if  you  move  before  that  clock  strikes  three,  I'll 
bring  you  down,  and  don't  you  forget  it." 

It  is  one  thing  to  face  death  in  a  fierce  struggle,  but 
quite  another  to  advance  coldly  upon  it  toward  the  muz- 
zle of  a  pistol  held  so  steadily  that  there  could  be  no 
chance  of  escape.  The  gleam  of  determination  in  the 
man's  eye  convinced  me  he  meant  what  he  said.  I  did 
not  consider  then,  nor  have  I  considered  since,  that  the 
next  five  minutes,  precious  as  they  were,  would  be  worth 
paying  my  life  for.  Apparently  everyone  else  was  of 
my  opinion,  for  none  moved  hand  or  foot  until  the  clock 
slowly  struck  three. 

"  Thank  you,  gentlemen,"  said  the  American,  a    he 
vanished  between  the  spring-doors.     When  I  say  van- 
ished, I  mean  that  word  and  no  other,  because  my  men 
outside  saw  nothing  of  this  individual  then  or  later.    He 
vanished  as  if  he  had  never  existed,  and  it  was  some 
hours  before  we  found  how  this  had  been  accomplished. 
I  rushed  out  almost  on  his  heels,  as  one  might  say, 
and  hurriedly  questioned  my  waiting  men.     They  had 
all  seen  the  tall  American  come  out  with  the  greatest 
leisureliness  and  stroll  toward  the  west.     As  he  was 
not  the  man  any  of  them  were  looking  for  they  paid 
no  further  attention  to  him,  as,  indeed,  is  the  custom 
with  our  Parisian  force.     They  have  eyes  for  nothing 
but  what  they  are  sent  to  look  for,  and  this  trait  has  its 
drawbacks  for  their  superiors. 

I  ran  up  the  boulevard,  my  whole  thought  intent  on 
the  diamonds  and  their  owner.  I  knew  my  subordinate 
in  command  of  the  men  inside  the  hall  would  look  after 

i8 


The  Scene  in  the  Sale  Roo 


m 


the  scoundrel  with  the  pistols.  A  short  distance  up  I 
found  the  stupid  fellow  I  had  sent  out,  standing  in  a 
dazed  manner  at  the  corner  of  the  Rue  Michodiere, 
gazing  alternately  down  that  short  street  and  toward 
the  Place  de  I'Opera.  The  very  fact  that  he  was  there 
furnished  proof  that  he  had  failed, 

"  Where  is  the  American?  "  I  demanded. 

"  He  went  down  this  street,  sir." 

"  Then  why  are  you  standing  here  like  a  fool  ?  " 

"  I  followed  him  this  far,  when  a  man  came  up  the 
Rue  Michodiere,  and  without  a  word  the  American 
handed  him  the  jewel  box,  turning  instantly  down  the 
street  up  which  the  other  had  come.  The  other  jumped 
into  a  cab,  and  drove  toward  the  Place  de  I'Opera." 

"And  what  did  you  do?  Stood  here  like  a  post,  I 
suppose  ? " 

"  I  didn't  know  what  to  do,  sir.  It  all  happened  in 
a  moment." 

"Why  didn't  you  follow  the  cab?" 

"  I  didn't  know  which  to  follow,  sir,  and  the  cab  was 
gone  instantly  while  I  watched  the  American." 

"  What  was  its  number?" 

"  I  don't  Know,  sir." 

"  You  clod !  Why  didn't  you  call  one  of  our  men, 
whoever  was  nearest,  and  leave  him  to  shadow  the  Anier- 
ican  while  you  followed  the  cab?  " 

"  I  did  shout  to  the  nearest  man,  sir,  but  he  said  you 
told  him  t  >  stay  there  and  watch  the  English  lord,  and 
even  before  he  had  spoken  both  American  and  cabman 
were  out  of  sight." 

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vmsssssmnss-^fm^SBK^rs.' 


The  Triumphs  of  Eugene  Falmont 


•'  Was  the  man  to  whom  he  gave  the  box  an  Amer- 
ican also  ?  " 

"  No,  sir,  he  was  French." 
"  How  do  you  know?  " 
"  By  his  appearance  and  the  words  he  spoke." 
"  I  thought  you  said  he  didn't  speak? " 
"  ^^\^'^  not  speak  to  the  American,  sir.  but  he  said 
to^the  cabman, '  Drive  to  the  Madeleine  as  quickly  as  you 

"  Describe  the  man." 

"  He  was  a  head  shorter  than  the  American,  wore 
a  black  beard  and  mustache  rather  neatly  trimmed,  and 
seemed  to  be  a  superior  sort  of  artisan." 

"You  did  not  take  the  number  of'the  cab.     Should 
you  know  the  cabman  if  you  saw  him  again?" 
Yes,  sir,  I  think  so." 
Taking  this  fellow  with  me  I  returned  to  the  now' 
nearly  empty  auction  room  and  there  gathered  all  my 
men  about  me.    Each  in  his  notebook  took  down  particu- 
lars of  the  cabman  and  his  passenger  from  the  lips  of  my 
mcompetent  spy;  next  I  dictated  a  full  description  of  the 
two  Americans,  then  scattered  my  men  to  the  various 
railway  stations  of  the  lines  leading  out  of  Paris,  with 
orders  to  make  inquiries  of  the  police  on  duty  there 

should  they  be  so  fortunate  as  to  find  any  of  them 

I  now  learned  how  the  rogue  with  the  pistols  van- 
1  hed  so  comi^etely  as  he  did.  My  subordinate  in  the 
auction  room  had  speedily  solved  the  mystery.  To  the 
left  of  the  main  entrance  of  the  auction  room  was  a  door 

20 


The  Scene  in  the  Sale  Room 


that  gave  private  access  to  tlie  rear  of  the  premises. 
As  the  attendant  in  charge  confessed  when  questioned, 
he  had  been  bribed  by  the  American  earher  in  the  day  to 
leave  this  side  door  open  and  to  allow  the  man  to  escape 
by  the  goods  entrance.  Thus  the  ruffian  did  not  appear 
on  the  boulevard  at  all,  and  so  had  not  been  observed 
by  any  of  my  men. 

Taking  my  futile  spy  with  me  I  returned  to  my  own 
office,  and  sent  an  order  throughout  the  city  that  every 
cabman  who  had  been  in  the  Boulevard  des  Italiens  be- 
tween half  past  two  and  half  past  three  that  afternoon, 
should  report  immediately  to  me.  The  examination 
of  these  men  proved  a  very  tedious  business  indeed,  but 
whatever  other  countries  may  say  of  us,  we  French  are 
patient,  and  if  the  haystack  is  searched  long  enough 
the  needle  will  be  found.  I  did  not  discover  the  needle 
I  was  looking  for,  but  I  came  upon  one  quite  as  im- 
portant, if  not  more  so. 

It  was  nearly  ten  o'clock  at  night  when  a  cabman 
answered  my  oft-repeated  questions  in  the  affirmative. 

"Did  you  take  up  a  passenger  a  few  minutes  past 
three  o'clock  on  the  Boulevard  des  Italiens,  near  the  Cre- 
dit-Lyonnais?  Had  he  a  short  black  beard?  Did  he 
carry  a  small  box  in  his  hand  and  order  you  to  drive 
to  the  Madeleine  ?  " 

The  cabman  seemeu  puzzled. 

"  He  wore  a  short  black  beard  when  he  got  out  of 
the  cab,"  he  replied. 

"  What  do  you  mean  by  that  ?  " 

"  I  drive  a  closed  cab,  sir.    When  he  got  in  he  was 

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The  Triumphs  of  Eugen,  FalmonI 


"  Was  he  a  Frenchman  ?  " 

America;.""'  "'  """  '   '°™«""'  "'^"  ^"g"^''  <" 
"  Was  he  carrying  a  box  ?  " 
'•No  sir;  he  hdd  in  his  hand  a  small  leather  bag." 
Where  did  he  tell  jou  to  drive '  " 

iust"d'^L'n'''r  '°  '"""'"  ""  '^""'  '■"  ''•°"''  "hich  had 

ac    tT    f,""'  ''"""'  '°™'-''  *'  Madeleine.    In 

fact  I  heard  the  man,  such  as  you  describe,  order  the 

other  cabman  to  drive  to  the  Madeleine.    I  had  come 

a  cab,  but  the  open  cab  cut  in  ahead  of  me.    lust  then  mv 

passenger  stepped  up  and  .said  in  French,  but    vUh  a 

foreign  accent :  ■  Follow  that  cab  u-herever  i,  goes  >  " 

turned  with  some  indignation  to  my  inefficient  spy. 

You  told  me,"   I   said,   "  that   the  American   had 

gone  down  a  side  street.    Yet  he  evidently  n,et  ^second 

got  mto  the  closed  cab  directly  behind  vou  " 

'Well,  sir,"  stammered  the  spy,  ''I  could  not  look 
n  two  d.recfons  a.  the  same  time.    The  American  ce" 
a,nly  wen,  down  the  side  street,  but  of  course  I  watched 
the  cab  which  contained  the  jewels  " 

elbo'wl "''  '""  ''"  "°"""^  °'  "■'  '^°'"'  ""  "gh'  ^'  >•"" 

me„7'''  ^/l"""""^  *"'  '""  °'  ""='•  »■•■••  and  the  pave- 
ment crowded  with  passers-by,  as  it  always  is  at  Aa, 
hour  of  the  day,  and  I  have  only  two  eyes  i„  my  head/' 

22 


The  Scene  in  the  Sale  Roo 


m 


"  I  am  glad  to  know  you  had  that  many,  for  I  was 
beginning  to  think  you  were  blind." 

Although  I  said  this,  I  knew  in  my  heart  it  was  use- 
less to  censure  the  poor  wretch,  for  tlie  fault  was  en- 
tirely my  own  in  not  sending  two  men,  and  in  failing  to 
guess  the  possibility  of  the  jewels  and  their  owner  being 
separated.  Besides,  here  was  a  clew  to  my  hand  at  last, 
and  no  time  must  be  lost  in  following  it  up.  So  I  con- 
tinued my  interrogation  of  the  cabman. 

"  The  other  cab  was  an  open  vehicle,  you  say  ? " 

"  Yes,  sir." 

"  You  succeeded  in  following  it  ?  " 

"  Oh,  yes,  sir.  At  the  Madeleine  the  man  in  front  re- 
directed the  coachman,  who  turned  to  the  left  and  drove 
to  the  Place  de  la  Concorde,  then  up  the  Champs  Ely- 
sees  to  the  Arch  and  so  down  the  Avenue  de  la  Grande 
Armee,  and  the  Avenue  de  Neuilly,  to  the  Pont  de 
Neuilly,  where  it  came  to  a  standstill.  My  fare  got  out, 
and  I  saw  he  now  wore  a  short  black  beard,  which  he 
had  evidently  put  on  inside  the  cab.  He  gave  me  a 
ten-franc  piece,  which  was  very  satisfactory." 

"And  the  fare  you  were  following?  What  did  he 
do? " 

"  He  also  stepped  out,  paid  the  cabman,  went  down 
the  bank  of  the  river  and  got  on  board  a  steam  launch 
that  seemed  to  be  waiting  for  him." 

"  Did  he  look  behind,  or  appear  to  know  that  he  was 
being  followed  ? " 

"  No,  sir." 

"  And  your  fare  ?  " 

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3 


The  Triumphs  of  Eugene  Falmont 


"  He  ran  after  the  first  man,  and  also  went  aboard 
tlie^^steam    launch,    which    instantly   started    down    the 

"  And  that  was  the  last  you  saw  of  them  ?  " 
"Yes,  sir." 

"  At  what  time  did  you  reach  the  Tent  de  Neuilly  ?  " 
"  i  <lo  not  know,  sir ;  I  was  comiH^Ued  to  drive  rather 
fast,  but  the  distance  is  seven  or  eight  kilometers." 
You  would  do  it  under  the  hour .?  " 
"  But  certainly,  under  the  hour." 
"  Then  you  must  have  reached  Neuilly  bridge  about 

four  O  clock  ?  "  -'  6      auyju. 

"  It  is  very  likely,  sir." 

The  plan  of  the  tall  American  was  now  perfectly  clear 
o  me    and  it  comprised  nothing  that  was  contrary  to 
law.    He  had  evidently  placed  his  luggage  on  board  the 
steam  launch  m  the  morning.     The  handbag  had  con- 
tamed  vanous  materials  which  would  enable  him  to  dis- 
gu.se  h.mself  and  this  bag  he  had  probably  left  in  some 
shop  down  the  side  street,  or  else  some  one  was  naiting 
with  .t  for  h.m.    The  giving  of  the  treasure  to  another 
man  was  not  so  risky  as  it  had  at  first  appeared,  because 
he  mstant ly  followed  that  man.  who  was  probably  his 
confidential  servant.    Despite  the  windings  of  the  river 
here  was  ample  time  for  the  launch  to  reach  Havre  be- 
fore the  American  steamer  sailed  on  Saturday  morning 
I  surmised  it  was  his  intention  to  come  alongside  the 
steamer  before  she  left  her  berth  in  Havre  harbor,  and 
thus  transfer  himself  and  his  belongings  unperceived 
by  anyone  on  watch  at  the  land  side  of  the  liner. 

24 


'&  *,  '■■  Vxi-*  y%'  -^'K;  ■  ■ '  >  \i  V  --^ 


The  Scene  in  the  Sale  Room 


All  this,  of  cr  .  .  was  perfectly  justifiable,  and 
«  seemed,  m  truth,  merely  a  weiMaid  scheme  for  escaping 
observation.  His  only  danger  of  being  tracked  was 
when  he  got  mto  the  cab.  Once  away  from  the  neigh- 
borhood of  the  Boulevard  des  Italiens  he  was  reason- 
ably sure  to  evade  pursuit,  and  the  five  minutes  which 

ust  the  time  he  needed  to  get  so  far  as  the  Place  Made- 
leine and  after  that  everything  was  easy.  Yet.  if  it  had 
not  been  for  those  five  minutes  secured  by  coercion.  I 
shouW  not  have  found  the  slightest  excuse  for  arrest- 
ing h,m  But  he  was  accessory  after  the  act  in  that 
pece  of  .llegahty-i„  fact,  it  was  absolutely  certain  that 
he  had  been  accessory  before  the  act.  and  guilty  of  con- 
spiracy with  the  man  who  had  presented  firearms  to  the 

oS"''7/",     r'  '"^  ^^"  '^^^  ^"^^^^-^d  with  an 
officer  in  the  discharge  of  his  duty  by  threatening  me 

and  my  men.    So  I  was  now  legally  in  the  right  if  I 
arrested  every  person  on  board  that  steam  launch 


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25 


CHAPTER   III 


THE   MIDNIGHT  RACE   DOWN   THE   SEINE 


IITH  a  map  of  the  river  befon  me  I  pro- 
ceeded to  make  some  calculations.  It  was 
now  nearly  ten  o'clock  at  night.  The 
launch  had  had  six  hours  in  which  to 
travel  at  its  utmost  speed.  It  was  doubt- 
ful if  so  small  a  vessel  could  make  ten  miles  an  hour, 
even  with  the  current  in  its  favor,  which  is  rather  slug- 
gish because  of  the  locks  and  the  level  country.  Sixty 
miles  would  place  her  beyond  Meulan,  which  is  fifty-eight 
miles  from  the  Pont  Royal,  and,  of  course,  a  lesser  dis- 
tance from  the  Pont  de  Neuilly.  But  the  navigation  of 
the  river  is  difficult  at  all  times,  and  almost  impossible- 
after  dark.  There  were  chances  of  the  boat  running 
aground,  and  then  there  was  the  inevitable  delay  at  the 
locks.  So  I  estimated  that  the  launch  could  not  yet  have 
reached  Meulan,  which  was  less  than  twenty-five  miles 
from  Paris  by  rail.  Looking  up  the  time  table  I  saw 
there  were  still  two  trains  to  Meulan,  the  next  at  10.25. 
which  reached  Meulan  at  11.40.  I  therefore  had  time 
to  reach  St.  Lazare  station,  and  accomplish  some  tele- 
graphing before  the  train  left. 

With  three  of  my  assistants  I  got  into  a  cab  and 
drove  to  the  station.    On  arrival  I  sent  one  of  mv  men 

26 


The  Midnight  Rare  Doun  the  Seine 


to  hold  the  train  while  I  w.-nt  into  the  telegraph  office, 
cleared  the  wires,  and  got  into  communication  with  the 
lock  master  at  Mculan.  He  replied  that  no  steam  launch 
had  passed  down  since  an  hour  before  sunset.  I  then  in- 
structed him  to  allow  the  yacht  to  enter  the  lock,  close 
the  upper  gate,  let  half  of  the  water  out,  and  hold  the 
vessel  there  until  I  came.  I  also  ordered  the  local  Meu- 
lan  police  to  send  enough  men  to  the  lock  to  enforce 
this  command.  Lastly.  I  sent  messages  all  along  the 
river  asking  the  police  to  report  to  me  on  the  train  the 
passage  of  the  steam  launch. 

The  10.25  is  a  slow  train,  stopping  at  every  station. 
However,   every   drawback   has   its   compensation,   and 
these  stoppages  enabled  me  to  receive  and  to  send  tele- 
graphic messages.    I  was  quite  well  aware  that  I  might 
be  on  a  fool's  errand  in  going  to  Meulan.     The  yacht 
could  have  put  about  before  it  had  steamed  a  mile  and 
so  returned  back  to  Paris.    There  had  been  no  time  to 
learn  whether  this  was  so  or  not  if  I  n^,  to  catch  the 
10.25.     Also,  it  might  have  landed  its  passengers  any- 
where along  the  river.    I  may  say  at  once  that  neither 
of  these  two  things  happened,  and  my  calculations  re- 
gardmg  her  movements  were  accurate  to  the  letter.    But 
a  trap  most  carefully  set  may  be  prematurely  sprung  by 
madvertence,  or  more  often  by  the  overzeal  of  some 
stupid  ass  who  fails  to  understand  his  instructions,  or 
oversteps  them  if  they  are  understood.     I   received  a 
most  annoying  telegram   from  Denouval,  a  lock  about 
thirteen  miles  above  that  of  Meulan.     The  local  police- 
man, arriving  at  the  lock,  found  that  tiie  yacht  had  just 

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:^MM'- 


^-«/ 


The  Triumphs  of  Eugene  Valmont 


cleared.  The  fool  shouted  to  the  captain  to  return, 
threatening  him  with  all  the  pains  and  penalties  of  the 
law  if  he  refused.  The  captain  did  refuse,  rang  on  full 
speed  ahead,  and  disappeared  in  the  darkness.  Through 
this  well-meant  blunder  of  an  understrapper  those  on 
board  the  launch  had  received  warning  that  we  were  on 
their  track.  I  telegraphed  to  the  lockkeeper  at  Denou- 
val  to  allow  no  craft  to  pass  toward  Paris  until  further 
orders.  We  thus  held  the  launch  in  a  thirteen  mile 
stretch  of  water,  but  the  night  was  pitch  dark,  and  pas- 
sengers might  be  landed  on  either  bank  with  all  France 
before  them,  over  which  to  effect  their  escape  in  any 
direction. 

It  was  midnight  when  I  reached  the  lock  at  Meulan. 
and,  as  was  to  be  expected,  nothing  had  been  seen  or 
heard  of  the  launch.    It  gave  me  some  satisfaction  to 
telegraph  to  that  dunderhead  at  Denouval  to  walk  along 
the   river  bank  to   Meulan,  and   report  if  he   learned 
the  launch's  whereabouts.    We  took  up  our  quarters  in 
the  lodgekeeper's  house  and  waited.     There  was  little 
sense  in  sending  men  to  scour  the  country  at  this  time  of 
night,  for  the  pursued  were  on  the  alert,  and  very  un- 
likely to  allow  themselves  to  be  caught  if  they  iiad  gone 
ashore.    On  the  other  hand,  there  was  every  chance  that 
the  captain  would  refuse  to  let  them  land,  because  he 
must  know  his  vessel  was  in  a  trap  froi..  which  it  could 
not  escape,  and  although  the  demand  of  the  policeman 
at  Denouval   was  quite  unauthorized,  nevertheless  the 
captain  could  not  know  that,  while  he  must  be  well  aware 
of  his  danger  in  refusing  to  obey  a  command  from  the 

28 


3B»Ri:"«W^ 


^^Msjffma^ 


I 


The  Midnight  Race  Down  the  Seim 


authorities.     Even  if  he  got  away  for  the  moment  he 
must  know  that  arrest  was  certain,  and  that  his  punish- 
ment would  be    ivcrc.     Ki:  only  plea  could  be  that  h- 
had  not  heard  a  d  i.nderstoc    the  order  to  return.    But 
this  plea  would  b-  invalidatt  J  if  he  aided  in  the  escape 
of  two  men,  whom  he  must  now  know  were  wanted  by 
the  police.     I  was  therefore  very  confident  that  if  his 
passengers  asked  to  be  set  ashore,  the  captain  would  re- 
fuse  when  he  had   had  time  to  think  about  his  own 
danger.     My  estimate  proved  accurate,  for  toward  one 
o'clock  the  lockkeeper  came  in  and  said  the  green  and 
red  lights   of  an  approaching  craft   were  visible,  and 
as  he  spoke  the  yacht  whistled  for  the  opening  of  the 
lock.     I  stood  by  the  lockkeeper  while  he  opened  the 
gates;  my  men  and  the  local  police  were  concealed  on 
each  side  of  the  lock.    The  launch  came  slowly  in,  and 
as  soon  as  it  had  done  so  I  asked  the  captain  to  step 
ashore,  which  he  did. 

"  I  wish  a  word  with  you,"  I  said.    "  Follow  me." 
I  took  him  into  the  lockkeeper's  house  and  closed 
the  door. 

"  Where  are  you  going?  " 

"  To  Havre." 

"  Where  did  you  come  from?  " 

"  Paris." 

"  From  what  quay?" 

"  From  the  Pont  de  Neuilly." 

"  When  did  you  leave  there  ?  " 

"  At  five  minutes  to  four  o'clock  this  afternoon." 

"  Yesterday  afternoon,  you  mean  ?  " 

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The  Triumphs  of  Eugene  Valmont 


"  Yesterday  afternoon." 

"  Who  engaged  you  to  make  this  voyage  ?  " 

"  An  American ;  I  do  not  know  his  name." 

"  He  paid  you  well,  I  suppose  ?  " 

"  He  paid  me  what  I  asked." 

"  Have  you  received  the  money  ?  " 

'*  Yes,  sir." 

"  I  may  inform  you,  captain,  that  I  am  Eugene  Val- 
mont, chief  detective  of  the  French  Government,  and 
that  all  the  police  of  France  at  this  moment  are  under 
my  control.  I  ask  you,  therefore,  to  be  careful  of  your 
answers.  You  v.'f-re  ordered  by  a  policeman  at  De- 
nouval  to  return.    Why  did  you  not  do  so  ?  " 

"  The  lockkeeper  ordered  me  to  return,  but  as  he  had 
no  right  to  order  me,  I  went  on." 

"  You  know  very  well  it  was  the  police  who  ordered 
you,  and  you  ignored  the  command.  Again  I  ask  you 
why  you  did  so." 

"  I  did  not  know  it  was  the  police." 

"I  thought  you  would  say  that.  You  knew  very 
well,  but  were  paid  to  take  the  risk,  and  it  is  likely  to  cost 
you  dear.    You  had  two  passengers  aboard'  " 

"  Yes,  sir." 

"Did  you  put  them  ashore  between  lierc  and  De- 
nouval  ?  " 

"  No,  sir ;  but  one  of  them  went  overboard,  and  we 
couldn't  find  him  again." 
"  Which  one  ?  " 
"  The  short  man." 

"  Then  the  American  is  still  aboard  ?  " 

30 


The  Midnight  Race  Down  the  Seine 


"What  American,  sir?" 

"Captain,  you  must  not  trifle  with  me.  The  man 
who  engaged  you  is  still  aboard  ?  " 

"  Oh,  no,  sir ;  he  has  never  been  aboard." 

"  Do  you  mean  to  tell  me  that  the  second  man  who 
came  on  your  launch  at  the  Pont  de  Neuilly  is  not  the 
American  who  engaged  you  ?  " 

"No,  sir;  the  American  was  a  smooth-faced  man; 
this  man  wore  a  black  beard." 

"  Yes,  a  false  beard." 

"  I  did  not  know  that,  sir.  I  understood  from  the 
American  that  I  was  to  take  but  one  passenger.  One 
came  aboard  with  a  small  box  in  his  hand;  the  other 
with  a  small  bag.  Each  declared  himself  to  be  the  pas- 
senger in  question.  I  did  not  know  what  to  do,  so  I  left 
Paris  with  both  of  them  on  board," 

"Then  t'-  11  man  with  the  black  beard  is  still 
with  you  ?  " 

"  Yes,  sir.' 

"  Well,  captain,  is  there  anything  else  you  have  to 
tell  me?  I  think  you  will  find  it  better  in  the  end  to 
make  a  clean  breast  of  it." 

The  captain  hesitated,  turning  his  cap  about  in  his 
hands  for  a  few  moments,  then  he  said : 

"  I  am  not  sure  that  the  first  passenger  went  over- 
board of  his  own  accord.  When  the  police  hailed  us  at 
Denouval " 

"Ah!  you  knew  it  was  the  police,  then? " 

"  I  was  afraid  after  I  left  it  might  have  been.  You 
see,  when  the  bargain  was  made  with  me  the  American 

31 


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OmX^'S'ifiMSVii 


The  Triumphs  of  Eugene  Valmonl 


sa.d  that  if  I  reached  Havre  at  a  certain  time  a  thou- 
sand francs  extra  would     e  paid  to  me,  so  I  was  anx- 
ious to  get  along  as  quickly  as  I  could.     I  told  him  it 
was  dangerous  to  navigate  the  Seine  at  night,  but  he 
paid  me  well  for  attempting  it.     After  che  policeman 
called  to  us  at  Denouval  the  man  with  the  small  box 
became  very  much  excited,  and  asked  me  to  put  him 
ashore,  which  I  refused  to  do.    The  tall  man  appeared 
to  be  watching  him,  never  letting  him  get  far  away. 
When  I  heard  the  splash  in  the  water  I  ran  aft   and  I 
saw  the  tall  man  putting  the  box  which  the  other  had 
held  mto  his  handbag,  although  I  said  nothing  of  it  at 
the  t.me.     We  cruised  back  and  forth  about  the  spot 
where  the  other  man  had  gone  overboard,  but  saw  noth- 
ing more  of  him.    Then  I  came  on  to  Meulan,  intending 
to  give  mformation  about  what  I  had  seen.    That  is  all  I 
know  of  the  matter,  sir." 

''  Was  the  man  who  had  the  jewels  a  Frenchman? " 

"  What  jewels,  sir?" 

"  The  man  with  the  small  box." 

"Oh,  yes,  sir;  he  was  French." 

"You  have  hinted  that  the  foreigner  threw  him  over- 
board. What  grounds  have  you  for  such  a  belief  if  you 
did  not  see  the  struggle  ?  " 

"  The  night  is  very  dark,  sir,  and  I  did  not  see  what 
happened.  I  was  at  the  wheel  in  the  forwPrd  part  of  the 
launch,  with  my  back  turned  to  these  two.  I  heard  a 
scream,  then  a  splash.  If  the  man  had  jumped  over- 
board as  the  other  said  he  did,  he  would  not  have 
screamed.    Besides,  as  T  told  you,  when  I  ran  aft  I  saw       I 

Z2 


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The  Midnight  Race  Down  the  Seine 


the  foreigner  put  the  little  box  in  his  handbag,  which  he 
shut  up  quickly  as  if  he  did  not  wish  me  to  notice." 

"  Very  good,  captain.  If  you  have  told  the  truth  it 
will  go  easy  with  you  in  the  investigation  that  is  to 
follow." 

I  now  turned  the  captain  over  to  one  of  my  men,  and 
ordered  in  the  foreigner  with  his  bag  and  bogus  black 
whiskers.  Before  questioning  him  I  ordered  him  to  open 
the  handbag,  which  he  did  with  evident  reluctance.  It 
was  filled  with  false  whiskers,  false  mustaches,  and  vari- 
ous bottles,  but  on  top  of  them  all  lay  the  jewel  case.  I 
raised  the  lid  and  displayed  that  accursed  necklace.  I 
looked  up  at  the  man.  who  stood  there  calmly  enough, 
saymg  nothing  in  spite  of  the  overwhelming  evidence 
against  him. 

"  Will  you  oblige  me  by  removing  your  false  beard?  " 

He  did  so  at  once,  throv.'ing  it  into  the  open  bag.  I 
knew  the  moment  I  saw  him  that  he  was  not  the  Ameri- 
can, and  thus  my  theory  had  broken  down,  in  one  very 
important  part  at  least.  Informing  him  who  I  was,  and 
cautioning  him  to  speak  the  truth,  I  asked  how  he  came 
in  possession  of  the  jewels. 

"  Am  I  under  arrest  ?  "  he  asked. 

"  But  certainly,"  I  replied. 

"  Of  what  am  I  accused  ?  " 

"  You  are  accused,  in  the  first  place,  of  being  in  pos- 
session of  property  which  does  not  belong  to  you." 

"  I  plead  guilty  to  that.    What  in  the  second  place? " 

"  In  the  second  place,  you  may  find  yourself  accused 
of  murder." 


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■^^ki-E^uap,,:^- 


V   ■- 


The  Triumphs  of  Eugene  Valmont 


"  I  am  innocent  of  the  second  charge.     The  man 
jumped  overboard." 

"  If  that  is  true,  why  did  he  scream  as   he  went 
over?" 

"  Because,  too  late  to  recover  his  balance,  I  seized 
this  box  and  held  it." 

"  He  was  in  rightful  possession  of  the  box ;  the  owner 
gave  it  to  him." 

"  I  admit  that ;  I  saw  the  owner  give  it  to  him." 
"  Then  why  should  he  jump  overboard  ?  " 
"  I   uo   not   know.      He   seemed   to   become   panic- 
stricken  when  the  police  at  the  last  lock  ordered  us  to 
return.    He  implored  the  captain  to  put  him  ashore,  and 
from  that  moment  I  watched  him  keenly,  expecting  that 
if  we  drew  near  to  the  land  he  would  attempt  to  escape, 
as  the  captain  had  refused  to  beach  the  launch.    He  re- 
mained quiet  for  about  half  an  hour,  seated  on  a  camp 
chair  by  the  rail,  with  his  eyes  turned  toward  the  shore, 
trying,  as   I   imagined,  to  penetrate  the  darkness  and 
estimate  the  distance.    Then  suddenly  he  sprang  up  and 
made  his  dash.     1  was  prepared  for  this  and  instantly 
caught  the  box  from  his  hand.     He  gave  a  half-turn, 
trying  either  to  save  himself  or  to  retain  the  box ;  then 
with  a  scream  went  down  shoulders  first  into  the  water. 
It  all  happened  within  a  second  after  he  leaped  from  his 
chair." 

"  You  admit  yourself,  then,  indirectly  at  least,  re- 
sponsible for  his  drowning?" 

"I  see  no  reason  to  suppose  that  the  man  was 
drowned.    If  able  to  swim  he  could  easily  have  reached 

34 


1 


The  Midnight  Race  Doun  the  Seini 


the  river  bank.     If  unable  to  swim,  why  should  he  at- 
tempt it  encumbered  by  the  box  ?  " 

"  You  believe  he  escaped,  then  ?  " 

"  I  think  so." 

"  It  will  be  lucky  for  you  should  that  prove  to  be  the 
case." 

"  Certainly." 

"  How  did  you  come  to  be  in  the  yacht  at  all  ?  " 
"  I  shall  give  you  a  full  account  of  the  affair,  con- 
cealing nothing.    I  am  a  private  detective,  with  an  office 
in  London.     I  was  certain  that  some  attempt  would  be 
made,  probably  by  the  most  expert  criminals  at  large, 
to  rob  the  possessor  of  this  necklace.     I  came  over  to 
Paris,  anticipating  trouble,  determined  to  keep  an  eye 
upon  the  jewel  case  if  thir,  proved  possible.    If  -he  jewels 
were  stolen  the  crime  was  bound  to  be  one  of  the  most 
celebrated  in  legal  annals.    I  was  present  during  the  sale, 
and  saw  the  buyer  of  the  necklace.   I  followed  the  official 
who  went  to  the  bank,  and  thus  learned  that  the  money 
was  behind  the  check.    I  then  stopped  outside  and  waited 
for  the  buyer  to  appear.    He  held  the  case  in  his  hand." 
"  In  his  pocket,  you  mean  ?  "  I  interrupted. 
"  He  had  it  in  his  hand  when  I  saw  him.    Then  the 
man  who  afterwards  jumped  overboard  approached  him, 
took  the  case  without  a  word,  held  up  his  hand  for  a 
cab,  and  when  an  open  vehicle  approached  the  curb  he 
stepped  in,  saying,  '  The  Madeleine.'     I  hailed  a  closed 
cab,  instructed  the  cabman  to  follow  the  first,  disguising 
myself  with   whiskers   as   near  like  those  the  man   in 
front  wore  as  I  had  in  my  collection." 

35 


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^^!i? 


The  Triumphs  of  Eugene  Valmont 


"  Why  (lid  you  do  that  ?  " 

"  As  a  detective  you  should  know  whv  I  did  it  I 
wished  as  nearly  as  possible  to  resemble  the  man  in 
front,  so  that  if  necessity  arose  I  could  pretend  that  I 
was  the  person  commissioned  to  carry  the  jewel  case 
As  a  matter  of  fact,  the  crisis  arose  when  we  came  to  the 
end  of  our  cab  journey.  The  captain  did  not  know 
which  was  his  true  passenger,  and  so  let  us  both  re- 
main aboard  the  launch.  And  now  you  have  the  whole 
story. 

"An  extremely  improbable  one.  sir.  Even  by  your 
own  account  you  had  no  right  to  interfere  in  this  busi- 
ness at  all." 

"  I  quite  agree  with  you  there."  he  replied,  with  great 
nonchalance,  taking  a  card  from  his  pocketbook,  which 
he  handed  to  me. 

"That  is  my  London  address;  you  may  make  in- 
quiries, and  you  will  find  I  am  exactly  what  I  represent 
myself  to  be." 

The  first  train  for  Paris  left  Meulan  at  eleven  min- 
utes past  four  in  the  morning.  It  was  now  a  quarter 
after  two.  I  left  the  captain,  crew,  and  launch  in  charge 
of  two  of  my  men.  with  orders  to  proceed  to  Paris  as 
soon  as  ,t  was  daylight.  I,  supported  bv  the  third  man 
waited  at  the  station  with  our  English  prisoner,  and 
reached  Paris  at  half  past  five  in  the  morning. 

The  English  prisoner,  though  severely  interrogated 
by  the  judge,  stood  by  his  story.     Inquirv  by  the  police 
m  London  proved  that  what  he  said  of  himself  was  true 
His  case,  however,  began  to  look  very  serious  when  two 

36 


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The  Midnight  Race  Down  the  Sei 


ne 


of  t!ie  men  from  the  launch  asserted  that  they  had  seen 
him  push  the  Frenchman  overboard,  and  their  statement 
could  not  be  shaken.  All  our  energies  were  bent  for  the 
next  two  weeks  on  trying  to  find  something  of  the  iden- 
tity of  the  missing  man,  or  to  get  any  trace  of  the  two 
Americans.  If  the  tall  American  were  alive,  it  seemed 
incredible  that  he  should  not  have  made  application  for 
the  valuable  property  he  had  lost.  All  attempts  to  trace 
him  by  means  of  the  check  on  the  Credit-Lyonnais 
proved  futile.  The  bank  pretended  to  give  me  every  as- 
sistance, but  I  sometimes  doubt  if  it  actually  did  so.  It 
had  evidently  been  well  paid  for  its  services,  and  evinced 
no  impetuous  desire  to  betray  so  good  a  customer. 

We  made  inquiries  about  every  missing  man  in  Paris, 
but  also  without  resvlt. 

The  case  had  excited  much  attention  throughout  the 
worid,  and  doubtless  was  published  in  full  in  the  Ameri- 
can papers.  The  Englishman  had  been  in  custody  three 
weeks  when  the  Chief  of  Police  in  Paris  received  the  fol- 
lowing letter : 

Dear  Sir:  On  my  arrival  in  New  York  by  the  English  steamer 
Lucania,  I  was  much  amused  to  read  in  the  papers  accounts  of  the 
exploits  of  detectives,  French  and  English.  I  am  sorry  that  only  one 
of  them  seems  to  be  in  prison;  I  think  his  French  confrere  ought  to 
be  there  also.  I  regret  exceedingly,  however,  that  there  is  the  rumor 
of  the  death  by  drowning  of  my  friend  Martin  Dubois,  of  375,  Rue 
aux  Julfs,  Rouen.  If  this  is  indeed  the  case,  he  has  met  his  death 
through  the  blunders  of  the  police.  Nevertheless,  I  wish  you  would 
communicate  with  his  family  at  the  address  I  have  given,  and  assure 
them  that  I  will  make  arrangements  for  their  future  support. 

I  beg  to  inform  you  that  I  am  a  manufacturer  of  imitation  dia- 

37 


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T  !.-■•.«>, 


^.-^^ 


The  Triumphs  of  Eugene  Valmont 


raonds,  and  through  extensive  advertising  succeeded  in  Hccumulat- 
ing  a  fortune  of  many  millions.    I  was  in  Europe  when  the  necklace 
was  found,  and  had  in  my  possession  over  a  thousand  i.Ti-tation 
diamonds  of  my  own  manufacture.     It  occurred  to  me  that  here 
was  the  opportunity  of  the  most  magnificent  advertisement  in  the 
world.     I  saw  the  necklace,  received  its  mea.surement.s,  and  also 
obtained  photographs  of  it  taken  by  the  French  Government.     Then 
I  .set  my  expert  friend  Martin  Dulx>is  at  work,  and  with  the  artificial 
su^nes  I  gave  h.m  he  made  an  imitation  necklace  s^.  closely  resembling 
the  ongmal  that  you  apparently  do  not  know  it  is  the  unreal  you 
have  m  your  possession.     I  did  not  fear  the  villainy  of  the  crooks  as 
much  as  the  blundering  of  the  police,  who  would  have  protected  me 
with  brass-band  vehemence  if  I  could  not  elude  them.     I  knew  that 
the  detectives  would  overiook  the  obvious,  but  would  at  once  follow 
a  clew  >f  I  provided  one  for  them.     Consequently,  I  laid  my  plans, 
just  as  you  have  discovered,  and  got  Martin  Dubois  up  from  Rouen 
o  carry  the  ca.se  I  gave  hirr  down  to  Havre.     I  had  had  another 
box  pv  <  .-ed  and  wrapped  in  brown  paper,  with  my  address  in  New 
^or.    .Keen  thereon.     The  moment  I  emerged  from  the  auction 
oom,  while  my  friend  the  cowboy  was  holding  up  the  audience, 
I  turned  my   ace  to  the  door,  took  out  the  genuine  diamonds  from 
the  case  and  slipped  it  into  the  box  I  had  prepared  for  mailing.    Into 
the  genuine  case  I  put  the  Ixjgus  diamonds.    After  handing  the 
box  to  Dubois,  I  turned  down  a  side  street,  and  then  into  another 
whose  name  I  do  not  know,  and  there  in  a  shop  with  sealing  wax  and 
stnng  did  up  the  real  diamonds  for  posting.     I  labeled  the  package 
Books,     went  to  the  nearest  post  ofTice,  paid  letter  postage,  and 
handed  It  over  unregistered,  as  if  it  were  of  no  particular  value. 
After  this  I  went  to  my  rooms  in  the  Grand  Hotel,  where  I  had  been 
staying  under  my  own  name  for  more  than  a  month.     Next  morning 
I  took  tram  for  London,  and  the  day  after  sailed  from  Liverpool  on 
the  Lucama.      I  arrived  before  the  Gascogne,  which  sailedfrom 
Havre  on  Saturday,  met  my  box  at  the  Customshouse,  paid  duty,  and 
It  now  reposes  in  my  safe.     I  intend  to  construct  an  imitation  necklace 
which  will  be  so  like  the  genuine  one  that  nobody  can  tell  the  two 

38 


•>&  ts  'js,,  sn'<.'^fii7je»(i.Mi:zi'3i..-ni.  ''mismcramsneM ' 


The  Midnight  Race  Down  the  Seine 


apart;  then  I  shall  come  to  Europe  and  exhibit  the  pair,  for  the 
publication  of  the  truth  of  this  matter  will  give  mc  the  greatest 
advertisement  that  ever  wai*. 

Yours  truly, 

John  P.  IlAZARn. 

I  at  once  communicated  with  Rouen  and  found  Mar- 
tin Dubois  alive  and  well.    His  first  words  were: 

"  I  swear  I  did  not  steal  the  jewels." 

He  had  swum  ashore,  tramped  to  Rouen,  and  kept 
quiet  in  great  fear  while  I  was  fruitlessly  sea-ching 
Paris  for  him. 

It  took  Mr.  Hazard  longer  to  make  his  imitation 
necklace  than  he  supposed,  and  several  years  later  he 
Ixjoked  his  passage  with  the  two  necklaces  on  the  ill- 
fated  steamer  Bour^i^opic,  and  now  rests  beside  them  at 
the  bottom  of  the  Atlantic. 

As  the  English  poet  says: 

Full  many  a  gem  of  purest  ray  serene, 
The  dark  unfathomed  caves  of  ocean  bear. 


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59 


CHAPTER   IV 


THE  onniTiKs  of  the  English 


|HE  events  I  have  just  related  led  to  my  dis- 
missal by  the  French  Government.    It  was 
not  because   I   had  arrested  an   innocent 
man ;  I  had  done  that  dozens  of  times  be- 
fore, with  nothing  said  about  it.     It  was 
not  because  I  had  followed  a  wrong  clew,  or  because  I 
had  failed  to  solve  the  m\  stery  of  the  five  hundred  dia- 
monds.   Every  detective  follows  a  wrong  clew  now  and 
then,  and  every  detective  fails  more  often  than  he  cares 
to  admit.     No.    All  these  things  would  not  have  shaken 
my  position,  but  the  newspapers  were  so  fortunate  as 
to  find  something  humorous  in  the  case,  and  for  weeks 
Paris  rang  with  laughter  over  my  exploits  and  my  de- 
feat.    The   fact   that   the   chief    French    detective   had 
placed  the  most  celebrated  English  detective  into  prison, 
and  that  each  of  them  were  busily  sleuth-hounding  a 
bogus  clew,  deliberately  flung  across  their  path  by  an 
amateur,  roused  all  France  to  great  hilarity.    The  Gov- 
ernment  was   furious.     The   Englishman   was   released 
and  I  was  dismissed.    Since  the  year  1893  I  have  been 
a  resident  of  London. 

When  a  man  is,  as  one  might  say,  the  guest  of  a 
country,  it  does  not  become  him  to  criticise  that  country. 

40 


The  Oddities  of  the  English 


I   have  studied  this   strange  people   with   interest,  an.l 
often  with  astonishment,  and  if  I  now  set  down  some 
of  the  differences  between  the  English  ami  the  French. 
1  trust  that  no  note  of  criticism  of  the  former  will  ap- 
pear, even   when  my  sympathies  are  entirely   with   the 
latter.    These  difTercnces  have  sunk  deeply  into  my  min.l 
because,  during  the  first  years  of  my  stay  in  London.' 
my  lack  of  understanding  them  was  often  a  cause  of  my 
own   failure   when   I   thought    I   had   success   in   hand. 
Many  a  time  did  I  come  to  the  verge  of  starvation  in 
Soho.   through   not  appreciating  the  peculiar  trend  of 
mind   which  causes  an  Englishman  to  do  inexplicable 
things— that  is.  of  course,   from  my  Gallic  standpoint. 
For  instance,  an  arrested  man  is  presumed  to  be  inno- 
cent until  he  is  proved  guilty.     In  England,  if  a  mur- 
derer is  caught  red-handed  over  his  victim,  he  is  held 
guiltless  until  the  judge  sentences  him.     In  France  we 
make  no  such  foolish  assumption,  and  although  I  admit 
that  innocent  men  have  sometimes  been  puni  'led,  my 
experience  enables  me  to  state  very  emphatically  that  thi.s 
happens  not  nearly  so  often  as  the  public  imagines.     In 
ninety-nine  cases  out  of  a  hunc'.ed  an   innocent  man 
can  at  once  prove  his  innocence  without  the  least  diffi- 
culty.   I  hold  it  is  his  duty  toward  the  state  to  run  the 
very  slight  risk  of  unjust  imprisonment  in  order  that 
obstacles  may  not  be  thrown  in  the  way  of  the  conviction 
of  real  criminals.     But  it  is  impossible  to  persnrtde  an 
Englishman  of  this.    Mon  Dieu!  I  have  tried  it  often 
enough. 

Never  shall  I  forget  tlic  bitterness  of  my  disappoint- 
4  41 


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The  Triumphs  of  Eugene  Valmont 


ment  when  I  captured  Felini,  the  Italian  anarchist,  in 
connection  with  the  Greenwich  Park  murder.    At  this 
time— it  gives  me  no  shame  to  confess  it— I  was  myself 
living  in  Soho,  in  a  state  of  extreme  poverty.    Having 
been  employed  so  long  by  the  French  Government,  I  had 
formed  the  absurd  idea  that  the  future  depended  on  my 
getting,  not  exactly  a  similar  connection  with  Scotland 
Yard,  but  at  least  a  subordinate  position  on  the  police 
force  which  would  enable  me  to  prove  my  capabilities, 
and  lead  to  promotion.  I  had  no  knowledge,  at  that  time, 
of  the  immense  income  which  awaited  me  entirely  out- 
side the  Government  circle.    Whether  it  is  contempt  for 
the  foreigner,  as  has  often  been  stated,  or  that  native 
stolidity  which  spells  complacency,  the  British  official  of 
any  class  rarely  thinks  it  worth  his  while  to  discover  the 
real  cause  of  things  in  France,  or  Germany,  or  Russia, 
but  plods  heavily  on  from  one  mistake  to  another.    Take, 
for  example,  those  periodical  outbursts  of  hatred  against 
England  which  appear  in  the  continental  press.     They 
create  a  dangerous  international  situation,  and  more  than 
once  have  brought  Britain  to  the  verge  of  a  serious  war. 
Britain  sternly  spends  millions  in  defense  and  prepara- 
tion, whereas,  if  she  would  place  in  my  hand  half  a 
million  pounds,  I  would  guarantee  to  cause  Britannia 
to  be  proclaimed  an  angel  with  white  wings  in  every 
European  country. 

When  I  attempted  to  arrive  at  some  connection  with 
Scotland  Yard,  I  was  invariably  asked  for  my  creden- 
tials. When  I  proclaimed  that  I  had  been  chief  detec- 
tive to  the  Republic  of  France,  I  could  see  that  this  an- 

42 


m.:.'k^m,\^m. 


1R<    '   ^ 


The  Oddities  of  the  English 


nouncement  made  a  serious  impression,  but  when  I 
added  that  the  Government  of  France  had  dismissed  me 
without  credentials,  recommendation,  or  pension,  official 
sympathy  with  officialism  at  once  turned  the  tables 
agamst  me.  And  here  I  may  be  pardoned  for  pointing 
out  another  portentous  d-ssimilarity  between  the  two 
lands  which  I  think  is  not  at  all  to  the  credit  of  my 
countrymen.  ^ 

I  was  summarily  dismissed.     You  may  say  it  was 
because  I  failed,  and  it  is  true  that  in  the  case  of  the 
queens  necklace  I  had  undoubtedly  failed,  but,  on  the 
other  hand,  I  had  followed  unerringly  the  clew  which 
lay  m  my  path,  and  although  the  conclusion  was  not  in 
accordance  with  the  facts,  it  was  in  accordance  with 
ogic.    ^o,  I  was  not  dismissed  because  I  failed     I  had 
failed  on  various  occasions  before,  as  might  happen  to 
any  man  m  any  profession.     I  was  dismissed  because  I 
made  France  for  the  moment  the  laughingstock  of  Eu- 
rope and  America.    France  dismissed  me  because  France 
had  been  laughed  at.     No  Frenchman  can  endure  the 
turmng  of  a  joke  against  him,  but  the  Englishman  does 
not  appear  to  care  in  the  least.    So  far  as  failure  is  con- 

iTlid  :-rhTr'"'  "''  "'"  '"'"'  ^°  egregiously  as 
did  with  Felim,  a  slippery  criminal  who  possessed  all 
he  bravery  of  a  Frenchman  and  all  the  subtlety  of  an 
Italian.  Three  times  he  was  in  my  hands-twice  in 
Pans,  once  in  Marseilles-and  each  time  he  escaped  me; 
)et  I  was  not  dismissed. 

When  I  say  that  Signor  Felini  was  as  brave  as  a 
Frenchman,  perhaps  I  do  him  a  little  more  than  justice. 

43 


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The  Triumphs  of  Eugene  Falmont 


He  was  desperately  afraid  of  one  man,  and  that  man 
was  myself.  Our  last  interview  in  France  he  is  not  likely 
to  forget,  and  although  he  eluded  me,  he  took  good  care 
to  get  into  England  as  fast  as  train  and  boat  could  carry 
him,  and  never  again,  while  I  was  at  the  head  of  the 
French  detective  force,  did  he  set  foot  on  French  soil. 
He  was  an  educated  villain,  a  graduate  of  the  University 
of  Turin,  who  spoke  Spanish,  French,  and  English  as 
well  as  his  own  language,  and  this  education  made  him 
all  the  more  dangerous  when  he  turned  his  talents  to 
crimi . 

Now,  I  knew  Felini's  handiwork,  either  in  murder 
or  in  housebreaking,  as  well  as  I  know  my  own  signa- 
ture on  a  piece  of  white  paper,  and  as  soon  as  I  saw  the 
body  of  the  murdered  man  in  Greenwich  Park  I  was 
certain  Felini  was  the  murderer.  The  English  authori- 
ties at  that  time  looked  upon  me  with  a  tolerant,  good- 
natured  contempt. 

Inspector  Standish  assumed  the  manner  of  a  man 
placing  at  my  disposal  plenty  of  rope  with  which  I  might 
entangle  myself.  He  appeared  to  think  me  excitable, 
and  used  soothing  expressions  as  if  I  were  a  fractious 
child  to  be  calmed,  rather  than  a  sane  equal  to  be  rea- 
soned with.  On  many  occasions  I  had  the  facts  at  my 
finger's  ends,  while  he  remained  in  a  state  of  most  com- 
placent ignorance,  and  though  this  attitude  of  lowering 
himself  to  deal  gently  with  one  whom  he  evidently  looked 
upon  as  an  irresponsible  lunatic  was  most  exasperating. 
I  nevertheless  claim  great  credit  for  having  kept  my 
temper  with  him.    However,  it  turned  out  to  be  impos- 

44 


&V.X6** 


The  Oddities  of  the  English 


sible  for  me  to  overcome  his  insular  prejudice.  He  al- 
ways supposed  me  to  be  a  frivolous,  volatile  person,  and 
so  I  was  unable  to  prove  myself  of  any  value  to  him  in 
his  arduous  duties. 

The  Felini  instance  was  my  last  endeavor  to  win  his 
favor.  Inspector  Standish  appeared  in  his  most  amiable 
mood  when  I  was  admitted  to  his  presence,  and  this  in 
spite  of  the  fact  that  all  London  was  ringing  with  the 
Greenwich  Park  tragedy,  while  the  police  possessed  not 
the  faintest  idea  regarding  the  crime  or  its  perpetrator. 
I  judged  from  Inspector  Standish's  benevolent  smile 
that  I  was  somewhat  excited  when  I  spoke  to  him,  and 
perhaps  usedi  many  gestures  which  seemed  superfluous 
to  a  large  man  whom  I  should  describe  as  immovable, 
and  who  spoke  slowly,  with  no  motion  of  his  hand, 
as  if  his  utterances  were  the  condensed  wisdom  of  the 
ages. 

"  Inspector  Standish,"  I  cried,  "  is  it  within  your 
power  to  arrest  a  man  on  suspicion  ? " 

"  Of  course  it  is,"  he  replied ;  "  but  we  must  harbor 
the  suspicion  before  we  make  the  arrest." 

"  Have  confidence  in  me,"  I  exclaimed.  "  The  man 
who  committed  the  Greenwich  Park  murder  is  an  Italian 
named  Felini." 

I  gave  the  address  of  the  exact  room  in  which  he 
was  to  be  found,  with  cautions  regarding  the  elusive 
nature  of  this  individual.  I  said  that  he  had  been  three 
times  in  my  custody,  and  those  three  times  he  had 
slipped  through  my  fingers.  I  have  since  thought  that 
Inspector  Standish  did  not  credit  a  word  I  had  spoken. 

45 


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The  Triumphs  of  Eugene  Valmont 


"  What  is  your  proof  against  this  Italian  ?  "  asked  tlie 
inspector  slowl'' 

"  The  proof  is  on  the  body  of  the  murdered  man ; 
but,  nevertheless,  if  you  suddenly  confront  Felini  with 
me  without  giving  him  any  hint  of  whom  he  is 
going  to  meet,  you  shall  have  the  evidence  from  his 
own  lips  before  he  recovers  from  his  surprise  and 
fright." 

Something  of  my  confidence  must  have  impressed 
the  official,  for  the  order  of  arrest  was  made.  Now,  dur- 
ing the  absence  of  the  constable  sent  to  bring  in  Felini, 
I  explained  to  the  inspector  fully  the  details  of  my  plan. 
Practically  he  did  not  listen  to  me,  for  his  head  was 
bent  over  a  writing  pad  on  which  1  thought  he  was  tak- 
ing down  my  remarks,  but  when  I  had  finished  he  went 
on  writing  as  before,  so  I  saw  I  had  flattered  myself  un- 
necessarily. More  than  two  hours  passed  before  the 
constable  returned,  bringing  with  him  the  trembling 
Italian.  I  swung  round  in  front  of  him,  and  cried,  in 
a  menacing  voice . 

"  Felini !  Regard  me !  You  know  Valmont  too  well 
to  trifle  with  him !  What  have  you  to  say  of  the  mur- 
der in  Greenwich  Park  ?  " 

I  give  you  my  word  that  the  Italian  collapsed,  and 
would  have  fallen  to  the  floor  in  a  heap  had  not  the  con- 
stables upheld  him  with  hands  under  each  arm.  His 
face  became  of  a  pasty  whiteness,  and  he  began  to  stam- 
mer his  confession,  when  this  incredible  thing  happened, 
which  could  not  be  believed  in  France.  Inspector  Stan- 
dish  held  up  his  finger. 

46 


I 


The  Oddities  of  the  English 


"  One  moment,"  he  cautioned  solemnly ;  "  remember 
that  whatever  you  say  will  be  used  against  you !  " 

The  quick,  beady  black  eyes  of  the  Italian  shot  from 
Standish  to  me,  and  from  me  to  Standish.  In  an  instant 
his  alert  mind  grasped  the  situation.  Metaphorically  I 
had  been  waved  aside.  I  was  not  there  in  any  official  ca- 
pacity, and  he  saw  in  a  moment  with  what  an  opaque 
intellect  he  had  to  deal.  The  Italian  closed  his  mouth 
like  a  steel  trap,  and  refused  to  utter  a  word.  Shortly 
aftc"  he  was  liberated,  as  there  was  no  evidence  against 
him.  When  at  last  complete  proof  was  in  the  tardy 
hands  of  the  British  authorities,  the  agile  Felini  was  safe 
in  the  Apennine  Mountains,  and  to-day  is  serving  a  life 
sentence  in  Italy  for  the  assassination  of  a  senator  whose 
name  I  have  forgotten. 

Is  it  any  wonder  that  I  threw  up  my  hands  in  despair 
at  finding  myself  among  such  a  people?  But  this  was 
in  the  early  days,  and  now  that  I  have  greater  expe- 
rience of  the  English,  many  of  my  first  opinions  have 
been  modified. 

I  mention  all  this  to  explain  why,  in  a  private  capac- 
ity, I  often  did  what  no  English  official  would  dare 
to  do.  A  people  who  will  send  a  policeman,  without  even 
a  pistol  to  protect  him,  to  arrest  a  desperate  criminal  in 
the  most  dangerous  quarter  of  London,  cannot  be  com- 
prehended by  any  native  of  France,  Italy,  Spain,  or  Ger- 
many. When  I  began  to  succeed  as  a  private  detective 
in  London,  and  had  accumulated  money  enough  for  my 
project,  I  determined  not  to  be  hampered  by  this  unex- 
plainable  softness  of  the  English  toward  an  accused 

47 


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The  Triumphs  of  Eugene  Valmont 


person.     I  therefore  reconstructed  my  flat,  and  placed 
m  the  center  of  ic  a  dark  room  strong  as  any  Bastile  cell 
It  was  twelve  feet  square,  and  contained  no  furniture 
except  a  number  of  shelves,  a  lavatory  in  one  corner 
and  a  pallet  on  the  floor.    It  was  ventilated  by  two  flues 
from  the  center  of  the  ceiling,  in  one  of  which  operated 

sent  the  foul  a.r  up  that  flue,  and  drew  down  fresh  air 
hrough  the  other.    The  entrance  to  this  cell  opened  out 
from  my  bedroom,  and  the  most  minute  inspection  would 
have  fa.^d  to  reveal  the  door,  which  was  of  massive 
steel,  and  was  opened  and  shut  by  electric  buttons  that 
were  partially  concealed  by  the  head  of  my  bed.    Even 
If  they  had  been  discovered,  they  would  have  revealed 
nothmg  because  the  first  turn  of  the  button  lit  the  elec- 
tric hght  at  the  head  of  my  bed;  the  second  turn  put  it 
out;  and  this  would  happen  as  often  as  the  button  was 
turned  to  the  right.    But  turn  it  three  times  slowly  to 
the  left,  and  the  steel  door  opened.     Its  juncture  was 
completely  concealed  by  paneling.    I  have  brought  many 
a  scoundrel  to  reason  within  the  impregnable  walls  of 
that  small  room. 

Those  who  know  the  building  regulations  of  London 
will  wonder  how  it  is  possible  for  me  to  delude  the  Gov- 
ernment inspector  during  the  erection  of  this  section  of 
the  Bastile  in  the  midst  of  the  modern  metropolis  It 
was  the  simplest  thing  in  the  world.  Liberty  of  the 
subject  is  the  first  great  rule  with  the  English  people 
and  thus  many  a  criminal  is  allowed  to  escape  Here 
was  I,  laying  plans  for  the  contravening  of  this  first  great 

48 


\:Z:^  ib^LiJOSii 


'•T^jTxsfr^  ■r-^  •r'' 


<i»!^J';'%^TSI^S.- 


The  Oddities  of  the  English 


rule,  and  to  do  so  I  took  advantage  of  the  second  great 
rule  of  the  English  people,  which  is,  that  property  is 
sacred.  I  told  the  building  authorities  I  was  a  rich  man 
with  a  great  distrust  of  banks,  and  I  wished  to  build  in 
my  flat  a  safe  or  strong  room  in  which  to  deposit  my 
valuables.  I  built  then  such  a  room  as  may  be  found  in 
every  bank,  and  many  private  premises  of  the  City,  and 
a  tenant  might  have  lived  in  my  flat  for  a  year  and  never 
suspect  the  existence  of  this  prison.  A  railway  engine 
might  have  screeched  its  whistle  within  it,  and  not  a 
sound  would  have  penetrated  the  apartment  that  sur- 
rounded it  unless  the  door  leading  to  it  had  been  left 
open. 

But  besides  M.  Eugene  Valmont,  dressed  in  elegant 
attire,  as  if  he  were  still  a  boulevardier  of  Paris,  occupier 
of  the  top  floor  in  the  Imperial  Flats,  there  was  another 
Frenchman  in  London  to  whom  I  must  introduce  you, 
namely.  Prof.  Paul  Ducharme,  who  occupied  a  squalid 
back  room  in  the  cheapest  and  most  undesirable  quar- 
ter of  Soho.     Valmont  flatters  himself  he  is  not  yet 
middle-aged,   but   poor   Ducharme   does   not   need   his 
sparse  gray  beard  to  proclaim  his  advancing  years.    Val- 
mont vaunts  an  air  of  prosperity ;  Ducharme  wears  the 
shabby  habiliments  and  the  shoulder  stoop  of  hopeless 
poverty.    He  shuffles  cringingly  along  the  street,  a  com- 
patriot not  to  be  proud  of.    There  are  so  many  French- 
men anxious   to  give   lessons   in   their  language,   that 
merely  a  small  living  is  to  be  picked  up  by  any  one  of 
them.    You  will  never  see  the  spruce  Valmont  walking 
alongside  the  dejected  Ducharme. 

49 


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The  Triumphs  of  Eugene  Falmont 


"  Ah !  "  you  exclaim,  "  Valmont  in  his  prosperity 
has  forgotten  those  less  fortunate  of  his  nationality." 
Pardon,  my  friends,  it  is  not  so.    Behold,  I  proclaim 
to  you,  the  exquisite  Valmont  and  the  threadbare  Du- 
charme  are  one  and  the  same  person.    That  is  why  they 
do  not  promenade  together.    And.  indeed,  it  requires  no 
great  histrionic  art  on  my  part  to  act  the  r61e  of  the 
miserable  Ducharme.  for  when  I  first  came  to  London 
I  warded  off  starvation  in  this  wretched  room,  and  my 
hand  it  was  that  nailed  to  the  door  the  painted  sign, 
"Professor    Paul    Ducharme,    Teacher   of   the    French 
Language."     I  never  gave  up  the  room,  even  when  I 
became  prosperous  and  moved  to  Imperial  Flats,  with 
its  concealed  chamber  of  horrors  unknown  to  British 
authority.    I  did  not  give  up  the  Soho  chamber  princi- 
pally for  this  reason :  Paul  Ducharme,  if  the  truth  were 
known  about  him,  would  have  been  regarded  as  a  dan- 
gerous character;  yet  this  was  a  character  sometimes 
necessary  for  me  to  assume.    He  was  a  member  of  the 
very  mner  circle  of  the  International,  an  anarchist  of  the 
anarchists.    This  malign  organization  has  its  real  head- 
quarters in  London,  and  we  who  were  officials  connected 
with  the  secret  service  of  the  Continent  have  more  than 
once  cursed  the  complacency  of  the  British  Government 
which  allows  such  a  nest  of  vipers  to  exist  practically 
unmolested.    I  confess  that  before  I  came  to  know  the 
English  people  as  well  as  I  do  now,  I  thought  that  this 
complacency  was  due  to  utter  selfishness,  because  the 
anarchists  never  commit  an  outrage  in  England.     Eng- 
land is  the  one  spot  on  the  map  of  Europe  where  an 

50 


t^-j<i^'?mim^rM,i 


^!ibiL'"'»sm§iff^m:'f».';iti&  -^ismMm  r^' 


The  Oddities  of  the  English 


anarchist  cannot  be  laid  by  the  heels  unless  there  is 
evidence  against  him  that  will  stand  the  test  of  open 
court.  Anarchists  take  advantage  of  this  fact,  and  plots 
are  hatched  in  London  which  are  executed  in  Paris, 
Berlin,  Petersburg,  or  Madrid.  I  know  now  that  this 
leniency  on  the  part  of  the  British  Government  does  not 
arise  from  craft,  but  from  their  unexplainable  devotion 
to  their  shibboleth—"  The  liberty  of  the  subject."  Time 
and  again  France  has  demanded  the  extradition  of  an 
anarchist,  always  to  be  met  with  the  question  : 

"  Where  is  your  proof  ?  " 

I  know  many  instances  where  our  certainty  was  ab- 
solute, and  also  cases  where  we  possessed  legal  proof 
as  well,  but  legal  proof  which,  for  one  reason  or  an- 
other, we  dared  not  use  in  public;  yet  all  this  had  no 
eflFect  on  the  British  authorities.  They  would  never  give 
up  even  the  vilest  criminal  except  on  publicly  attested 
legal  evidence,  and  not  even  then  if  the  crime  were 
political. 

During  my  term  of  office  under  the  F  cnch  Govern- 
ment, no  part  of  my  duties  caused  me  mors  anxiety  than 
that  which  pertained  to  the  political  secret  societies.  Of 
course,  with  a  large  portion  of  the  Secret  Service  fund 
at  my  disposal.  I  was  able  to  buy  expert  assistance,  and 
even  to  get  information  from  anarchists  themselves. 
This  latter  device,  however,  was  always  more  or  less 
unreliable.  I  have  never  yet  met  an  anarchist  I  could 
believe  on  oath,  and  when  one  of  them  offered  to  sell 
exclusive  information  to  the  police,  wc  rarely  knew 
whether  he  was  merely  trying  to  get  a  few  francs  to  keep 

51 


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n.    TriHrnphs  of  Eugene  Fnlmont 


""'"•"  ':""•  "^'"■'"K.  "■•  whether  he-  wa,  Rivins  us 
f»Uc  ,«r,K„lar.<  which  w„„l,l  Ica.l  „s  i„,„  a  ,ra,..  I  have 
a  wnvs  r...ar,K.,l  „„r  .leahngs  with  nihihs.s.  ana.ehiM, 

r  o  he  socro,  ass,Kia(i„„s  f„r  ,l,e  |KT|H.tralmg  „f  n,„r. 
<Kt  a..  ,he  „,„s,  ,la,«er,„„  service  a  .le.ec.ivc  is  callcl 
..!»"  ...  ,K-rf„n„.    ^^,  i,  is  ah.soh,.ei>  necessary  .hat  the 

conclaiis.       I  here  are   three   mcihcls   of  Kctlin,.   this 
.n.oln«c„ce.     ..irst.  „eri„.h-  al  rai.ls  „,„n  ,„t  ^Z 
acco,„pa,,H.,l  h,  confiscation  and  search  of  all  pa  ^ 
o       .         -.H'.ho„  is  n„,ch  in  favor  with  the  rLI:: 

bccanse  the  anarch.sts  are  no.  snch  fools.  spcakinR  gen- 
era l>s  a.,  ,„  c„,n„,i,  their  p„r,K,ses  to  writing:  anS  see- 
on, .  hecanse  ,.  leads  ,„  reprisal.     Each  raiS  is  us'ua  y 
folbwe,    hy  a  fresh  onthreak  of  activity  on  the  part  o^ 
those  left  free.    The  secon.l  method  is\o  b  il^  an  an 
archts.  to  betray  his  comrades.    ,  have  never  found  any 
-Mculty  n,  getting  ,:,ese  gentry  to  accept  •  ,„ey     Thev 
are  eternally  in  nc-ed.  but  I  usually  fi„d  ,•     -^Z^Z 
>  g.vc  ,n  return  to  be  cither  unintpo  ,  .n,  or  inaceu 
rate     There  reina  ns.  then,  the  third  n,ctho,l,  which  is 
o  place  a  spy  an.ong  then,.    The  spy  battalion  s  the  fo 
on,  ho,,  of  the  detective  service.     In  one  year  I    os, 
■hrc^  .uen  on  anarchist  duty,  antong  the  victims  be  „ ' 
m.v  most  valuable  •,el,.r.  Henri  nris.s„n.    Poor  Brisson! 
fate  was  an  exantple  of  how  a  man  may  follow  a  peril- 
ous «e     „,on  for  months  with  safety,  and  then  by  a 
shght  mistake  bring  disaster  on  himself. 

At  the  last  gathering  Hrisson  attended  he  received 

52 


'wrSk'.y 


The  Oddities  of  the  English 


news  of  such  immciliatc  and  fateful  import  that.  (»n 
emerging  from  the  cellar  where  the  gathering  was  held, 
he  made  directly  for  my  residence  instead  of  going  to  his 
own  squalid  nxmi  in  the  Rue  l-algario.  My  concierge 
said  that  he  arrived  shortly  after  one  o'clock  iu  the 
morning,  and  it  would  seem  that  at  this  hour  he  could 
easily  have  made  himself  acquainted  with  the  fact  that 
he  was  folk)wed.  Still,  as  there  was  on  his  track  that 
human  panther,  Felini,  it  is  not  strange  i>oor  Brisson 
failed  to  elude  him. 

Arriving  at  the  tall  building  in  which  my  flat  was 
then  situated,  Brisson  rang  the  Ix'll,  and  the  concierge, 
as  usual,  in  that  strange  state  of  semisomnolencc  which' 
envelops  concierges  during  the  night,  pulled  the  loopnl 
wire  at  the  head  of  his  bed,  and  unlxjlted  the  door.    Bris- 
son assuredly  ck)sc(l  the  huge  door  behind  him,  and  yet. 
the  moment  be  ore  he  did  so.  Felini  must  have  slipped 
in  unnoticed  to  the  stone-paved  courtyard.     If  Brisson 
had  not  spoken  and  announced  himself,  the  concierge 
would  have  been  wide-awake  in  an  instant.     If  he  had 
given  a  name  unknown  to  the  concierge,  the  same  re- 
sult would  have  ensued.     As   it  was,  he  cried  aloud, 
"Brisson!"   whereupon   the   concierge   of  the   famous 
chief  of  the  French  detective  staff,  Valmont,  muttered, 
"Bon!"  and  was  instantly  asleep  again. 

Now  Felini  had  known  Brisson  well,  but  it  was  un- 
der the  name  of  Revensky,  and  as  an  exiled  Russian 
Brisson  had  spent  all  his  early  years  in  Russia,  and 
spoke  the  language  like  a  native.    The  moment  Brisson 
had  uttered  his  true  name  he  had  pronounced  his  own 

53 


o 

C 

5 


The  Triumphs  of  Eugene  Valmont 


death  V  r.ant.    Felini  followed  him  up  to  the  first  land- 
•ng-rr-v  i     nis   xverc  on   the   second   floor-and  there 
placed  h.s  snrn  manual  on  the  imfortunate  man.  which 
was   tb.    ,v;ft   downward   stroke   of   a   long,   narrow, 
sharo  r-nu.  .,  entering  the  body  below  the  shoulders 
and  .,;  ror.K   .'ie  heart.     The  a.lvantage  presented  by 
this  I.  r^,h!,  ,  low  is  that  the  victim  sinks  instantly  in 
a  heap  a  U,  r.ct  of  h.s  slayer,  without  uttering  a  moan. 
The^.o.md   -c(t   is    .       ,rcely   perceptible   blue   mark 
wluch  •.....,..„:     ,j.      It  was  this  mark  I  saw  on 
the  bo.  .^  of  (.     ,  ,i,       f  Marseilles,  and  afterwards  on 

mark    c.nd  on  the  ,  .an  in  Greenwich  Park,  always  just 
below  the  left  shoulder  blade,  struck  from  behind     Fe- 
hn.s  comrades  claim  that  there  was  this  nobilitv  in  his 
acfon.  na.nely.  ho  all,>wed  the  traitor  to  prove 'himself 
before  he  struck  the  blow.     I  should  be  sorry  to  take 
away  th.s  poor  shred  of  credit  from  Felini's  character 
but  the  reason  he  followed  Brisson  into  the  courtyard 
was  to  g.ve  himself  ti.ue  to  escape.     He  knew  perfectly 
the  wavs  of  the  concierge.     He  knew  that  the  body 
would  he  there  until  the  mornin.^  as  it  actually  did.  and 
that  th.s  would  give  him  hours  in  which  to  effect  his 
retreat      And   this    was    the   man    whom    British    law 
warned  not  to  incriminate  himself!     What  a  people' 
What  a  people !  f^^F'c  . 

mo-f '";  ^'■,'''°"''  ^''^'^  ^'"''''  I  ^^^°'^^^  to  set  no 
rno  e  valuable  men  on  the  track  of  the  anarchists,  but 
to  place  upon  myself  the  task  in  my  moments  of  relaxa- 
tion.   I  became  very  much  interested  in  the  underground 

54 


.:«i?A>TW..  f  ^^■•.«.•^ 


n^'m 


^:fj*4 


The  OJJitifs  of  the  English 


workings  of  the  It.tanalional.    I  j<m„c,|  the  organization 
under  the  name  of  Paul  Ducharmc.  a  profossor  of  ad- 
vanced opinions,   who  t)ecau.se  of  them   had   been  dis- 
missed from  his  situation  in  Xantes.    As  a  matter  of  fact 
there  had  Ix-en  such  a  Paul  Ducharmc.  who  had  been  so 
dismissed,  but  he  had  drowned  himself  in  the  I^ire.  at 
Orleans,  as  the  records  show,     f  adopted  the  precaution 
of  petting  a  pln-togtaph  of  this  foolish  old  man   from 
the  police  at  Nank-s,  an<l  made  myself  up  to  resemble 
him.     It  says  much  for  my  disguise  that  I  was  recog- 
nized as  the  professor  by  a  delegate  from  Nantes,  at 
tiic  annual  convention  held  in  Paris,  which  I  attended, 
and  although  we  conversed  for  some    ime  together  he 
never  suspected  that  I  was  not  the  professor,  whose  fate 
was  known  to  no  one  but  the  police  of  Orleans.    I  jjained 
much  credit  among  my  comrades  because  of  this  encoun- 
ter, which,  during  its  first  few  moments,  filled  me  with 
dismay,  for  the  delegate  from  Nantes  held  me  up  as  an 
example  of  a  man  well  off.  who  had  deliberately  sacri- 
ficed  his   worldly   position    for   the   sake   of   principle 
Shortly  after  this  I  was  chosen  delegate  to  carrv  a  mes- 
sage to  our  comrades  in  London,  and  this  delicate  under- 
taking passed  off  without  mishap. 

It  was  perhaps  natural,  then,  that  when  I  cam--  to 
London  after  my  dismissal  by  the  French  Governmctu. 
I  should  assume  the  name  and  appearance  of  Paul  Du- 
charme.  and  adopt  the  profession  of  French  leacher. 
This  profession  gave  me  great  advantages.  I  could  be 
absent  from  my  rooms  for  hours  at  a  time  without  at- 
tractmg   the    least   attention,    because   a    teacher    goes 

55 


m 
o 

2 

C 


The  Triumphs  of  Eugene  Valmont 


wherever   there   are   pupils.    If  any   of   my   anarchist 
comrades  saw  me  emerging  shabbily   from  the  grand 

affably,  thmkmg  I  was  coming  from  a  pupil 

The  sumptuous  flat  was  therefore  the  office  in  which 
I  received  my  rich  clients,  while  the  squalid  room  in 
Soho  was  often  the  workshop  in  which  the  tasks  in- 
trusted to  me  were  brought  to  completion 


56 


CHAPTER  V 


THE  SIAMESE  TWIN  OF  A  BOMB  THROWER 

NOW  come  to  very  modern  days  indeed, 
when  I  spent  much  time  with  the  emis- 
saries of  the  International. 

It  will  be  remembered  that  the  King  of 
England  made  a  round  of  visits  to  Eu- 
ropean capitals,  the  far-reaching  results  of  which  in  the 
interest  of  ^  }ace  we  perhaps  do  not  yet  fully  understand 
and  appreciate.  His  visit  to  Paris  was  the  beginning 
of  the  present  entente  cordiale,  and  I  betray  no  confi- 
dence when  I  say  that  this  brief  official  call  at  the  French 
capital  was  the  occasion  of  great  anxiety  to  the  Govern- 
ment of  my  own  country  and  also  of  that  in  which  I  was 
domiciled.  Anarchists  are  against  all  governments,  and 
would  like  to  see  each  one  destroyed,  not  even  excepting 
that  of  Great  Britain. 

My  task  in  connection  with  the  visit  of  King  Ed- 
ward to  Paris  was  entirely  unofficial.  A  nobleman,  for 
whom  on  a  previous  occasion  I  had  been  so  happy  as 
to  solve  a  little  mystery  which  troubled  him,  compli- 
mented me  by  calling  at  my  flat  about  two  weeks  before 
the  king's  entry  into  the  French  capital.  I  know  I  shall 
be  pardoned  if  I  fail  to  mention  this  nobleman's  name. 
I  gathered  that  the  intended  visit  of  the  king  met  with 
^  57 


V 

O 

C 
2 

I 

5 


The  Triumphs  of  Eugene  Valmont 


his  disapproval.    He  asked  if  I  knew  anything,  or  could 
discover  anything,  of  the  purposes  animating  the  an- 
archist chibs  of   Paris,   and  their  attitude  toward  the 
royal  function,  which  was  now  the  chief  topic  in  the 
newspapers.    I  replied  that  within  four  days  I  would  be 
able  to  submit  to  him  a  complete  report  on  the  subject 
He  bowed  coldly  and  withdrew.     On  the  evening  of 
the  fourth  day  I  permitted  myself  the  happiness  of  wait- 
ing upon  his  lordship  at  his  West  End  London  mansion. 
I  have  the  honor  to  report  to  your  lordship,"  I 
began,  "  that  the  anarchists  of  Pans  are  somewhat  di- 
vided in  their  opinions  regarding  his  Majesty's  forth- 
coming progress  through  that  city.     A  minority,  con- 
temptible m  point  of  number,  but  important  so  far  as 
the  extremity  of  their  opinions  are  concerned,  has  been 
trying " 

"  Excuse  me."  interrupted  the  nobleman,  with  some 
severity  of  tone ;  "  are  they  going  to  attempt  to  injure  the 
King  or  not  ?  " 

"  They  are  not,  your  lordship."  I  replied,  with  what 
I  trust  IS  my  usual  urbanity  of  manner,  despite  his  curt 
interpolation.  "  His  most  gracious  Majesty  will  suffer 
no  molestation,  and  their  reason  for  quiescence " 

"  Their  reasons  do  not  interest  me,"  put  in  his  lord- 
ship gruffly,        ^cu  are  sure  of  what  you  say?" 

"  Perfectly  sure,  your  lordship." 

"  No  precautions  need  be  taken  ?  " 

•j  None  in  the  least,  your  lordship." 

"  Very  well,"  concluded  the  nobleman  shortly     "  If 
you  tell  my  secretary  in  the  next  room  as  you  go  out 

58 


The  Siamese  Twin  of  a  Bomb  Thrower 


how  much  I  owe  you,  he  will  hand  you  a  check,"  and 
with  that  I  was  dismissed. 

I  may  say  that,  mixing  as  I  do  with  the  highest  in 
two  lands,  and  meeting  invariably  siicli  courtesy  as  I 
myself  am  always  eager  to  bestow,  a  feeling  almost  of 
resentment  arose  at  this  cavalier  treatment.  However, 
I  merely  bowed  .somewhat  ceremoniously  in  silence,  and 
availed  myself  of  the  opportunity  in  the  next  room  to 
double  my  bill,  which  was  paid  without  demur. 

Now,  if  this  nobleman  had  but  listened,  he  would 
have  heard  much  that  might  interest  an  ordinary  man, 
although  I  must  say  that  during  my  three  conversations 
with  him  his  mind  seemed  closed  to  all  outward  impres- 
sions save  and  except  the  grandeur  of  his  line,  which 
he  traced  back  unblemished  into  the  northern  part  of  my 
own  country. 

The  king's  visit  had  come  as  a  surprise  to  the  an- 
archists, and  they  did  not  quite  know  what  to  do  about 
it.  The  Paris  Reds  were  rather  in  favor  of  a  demonstra- 
tion, while  London  bade  them,  in  God's  name,  to  hold 
their  hands,  for,  as  they  pointed  out,  England  is  the 
only  refuge  in  which  an  anarchist  is  safe  until  some 
particular  crime  can  be  imputed  to  him,  and,  what  is 
more,  proven  up  to  the  hilt. 

It  will  be  remembered  that  the  visit  of  the  king  to 
Paris  passed  oflF  without  incident,  as  did  the  return 
visit  of  the  president  to  London.  On  the  surface  all 
was  peace  and  good  will,  but  under  the  surface  seethed 
plot  and  counterplot,  and  behind  the  scenes  two  great 
governments  were  extremely  anxious,  and  high  officials 

59 


o 

I 

5 


The  Triumph,  of  Eugene  Falmonl 


m  Ihc  bocrc.  Service.  s,K.„t  .Icepless  niglUs.    As  „„  ■•  „„ 
toward  ,„c,dc„f  had  happencl.  .ho  vigilance  of  ,h.. 
author,„es  on  bo,h  side,,  of  ,l,e  Channel  relaxed  at  the 
very  n,on,ent  when,  if  ,hcy  had  known  .heir  adversaries 
It  shouM  have  been  redouble,!.    Always  beware  of  IhJ 
anarclns,  when  he  has  bc.n  goo.l:  Lk  on,  for  1 

when  there  ,s  a  grand  opportunity  for  strutting  across 
the  world  s  stage,  and  when  he  misses  the  psychological 

""";«'    Vr'"r  """  '■  """>■•••  ''^  "-  English  say 
When  „  first  became  known  that  there  was  to  be  , 

w.sho<l  to  take  ae„o„.  bu,  they  were  overruled  by  .he 

posed  .ha.  anarch,.s,s  are  a  land  of  luna.ies.    There  a  o 

ab^  brains  among  them,  and  these  born  leaders  as  na.u 

ra%  assume  control  in  the  underground  world  of  a  . 
a  chv  as  „„„,j  ^^^^  ^^^  ^^^  ^^^  .^ 

the,r  talents  .„  affairs  in  ordinary  life.    They  were  me„ 
whose  mmds,  a.  one  period,  had  taken  the  wrong  turn" 

f'"*'""'  "^'""n  England  and  France  with  grave 

Sd  ™"".     "    '^"""   ^"^    ^"Siand    beca„,e 
fr^ndly  as  France  and  Russia,  might  not  the  refnge 

I„!.T .      ,  ■?'"  ''*■  ''"'  "■^«  ""'  »""  »«gh.  as  an 

under  :  '^  'T"'"^  *'^'  """"^   -  disguise 

under   the  name  of  Paul   Ducharme   was    invarlbly 

60 


The  Siamese  Twin  of  a  Bom/,  Thrower 

ll,row„  in  ,„  hdp  the  ca„se  of  moderation.     My  role 
o    course,  was  not  to  ullc  ,00  much;  not  to  make  my^ 

r'^lrTu"''  '"'  '"  '"''■  '  «»"'^™8  ^  ™"  ""no, 
remam  wholly  a  spectator.    Care  for  my  own  safety  led 

me  to  be  as  mconspic^ous  as  possible,  for  members  of 
commun,;,es  banded  together  against  the  laws  of  the 
and  m  wh.ch  they  live  are  extremely  suspicious  of  one 
another,  and  an  madverten.  word  may  cause  disaster 
to  the  person  speaking  it. 

Perhaps  it  was  this  conservatism  on  my  part  that 
caused  my  advice  to  be  sought  after  by  the  inner  circle, 
what  you  m,ght  term  the  governing  body  of  the  anarch: 
«s,  for,  strange  as  i,  may  appear,  this  organization 
sworn  to  put  down  all  law  and  order,  was  hself  mos 
ng.dly  governed,  with  a  Russian  prince  elected  aHts 
chairman,  a  man  of  striking  ability,  who,  nevertheless, 
I  bel.eve,  owed  h,s  election  more  to  the  fact  that  h^ 
wa    a  nobleman  than  .0  the  recognition  of  his  intrinsic 
worthy     And  another  point  which  interested  me  much 
was  that  th,s  prince  ruled  his  obstreperous  subjects  after 
0  tletT"  of  Russian  despotism,  rather  than 'according 

■clod.  I  have  known  him  more  than  once  ruthlessly 
overturn  the  action  of  the  majority,  stamp  his  foot,  sm  e 
us  huge  fist  on  the  table,  and  declare  so  and  so  hou Id 
no,  be  done,  no  matter  what  the  vote  was.  And  the 
thmg  was  not  done,  either. 

At  the  more  recent  period  of  which  I  speak  the 
cha.rmansh,p  of  the  London  anarchists  was  hdd  'by  a 
weak,  vacllatmg  man,  and  the  mob  had  got  somewhat 

61 


rn 

i 

:2 


:^ 


The  Triumphs  of  Eugene  Valmont 


out  of  hand.  In  the  crisis  that  confronted  us  I  yearned 
for  the  firm  fist  and  dominant  boot  of  the  uncompro- 
mising Russian.  I  spoke  only  once  during  this  time,  and 
assured  my  listeners  that  they  had  nothing  to  fear  from 
the  coming  friendship  of  the  two  nations.  I  said  the 
Englishman  was  so  wedded  to  his  grotesque  ideas  re- 
garding the  liberty  of  the  subject ;  he  so  worshiped  ab- 
solute legal  evidence,  that  we  would  never  find  our 
comrades  disappear  mysteriously  from  England  as  had 
been  the  case  in  continental  countries. 

Although  restless  during  the  exchange  of  visits  be- 
tween king  and  president,  I  believe  I  could  have  car- 
ried the  English  phalanx  with  me,  if  the  international 
courtesies  had  ended  there.  But  after  it  was  announced 
that  members  of  the  British  Parliament  were  to  meet  the 
members  of  the  French  Legislature,  the  Paris  circle  be- 
came alarmed,  and  when  that  conference  did  not  end 
the  entente,  but  merely  paved  the  way  for  a  meeting  of 
business  men  belonging  to  the  two  countries  in  Paris, 
the  French  anarchists  sent  a  delegate  over  to  us,  who 
made  a  wild  speech  one  night,  waving  continually  the 
red  flag.  This  roused  all  our  own  malcontents  to  a 
frenzy.  The  French  speaker  practically  charged  the 
English  contingent  with  cowardice;  said  that  as  they 
were  safe  from  molestation,  they  felt  no  sympathy  for 
their  comrades  in  Paris,  at  any  time  liable  to  summary 
arrest  and  the  torture  of  the  secret  cross-examination. 
This  Anglo-French  love  feast  must  be  wafted  to  the 
heavens  in  a  halo  of  dynamite.  The  Paris  anarchists 
were  determined,  and  although  they  wished  the  cooper- 

62 


The  Siamese  Twin  of  a  Bomb  Th 


rower 


ation  of  their  London  brethren,  yet,  if  the  speaker  did 
not  bring  back  with  him  assurance  of  such  cooperation, 
Paris  would  act  on  its  own  initiative. 

The  Russian  despot  would  have  made  short  work  of 
this  blood-blinded  rhetoric,  but,  alas !  he  was  absent,  and 
an  overwhelming  vote  in  favor  of  force  was  carried  and 
accepted  by  the  trembling  chairman.     My  French  con- 
frhe  took  back  with  him  to  Paris  the  unanimous  con- 
sent of  the  English  comrades  to  whom  he  had  appealed. 
All  that  was  asked  of  the  English  contingent  was  that 
it  should  arrange  for  the  escape  and  safe-keeping  of  the 
assassin  who  flung  the  bomb  into  the  midst  of  the  Eng- 
lish visitors;  and  after  the  oratorical  madman  had  de- 
parted, I,  to  my  horror,  was  chosen  to  arrange  for  the 
safe  transport  and  future  custody  of  the  bomb  thrower. 
It  is  not  etiquette  in  anarchist  circles  for  any  member 
to  decline  whatever  task  is  given  him  by  the  vote  of 
his  comrades.    He  knows  the  alternative,  which  is  sui- 
cide.    If  he  declines  the  task  and  still  remains  upon 
earth,  the  dilemma  is  solved  for  him,  as  the  Italian  Felini 
solved  it  through  the  back  of  my  unfortunate  helper 
Brisson.     I  therefore  accepted  the  unwelcome  office  in 
silence,  and  received  from  the  treasurer  the  money  nec- 
essary for  carrying  out  the  same. 

I  realized  for  the  first  time  since  joining  the  an- 
archist association  years  before  that  I  was  in  genuine 
danger.  A  single  false  step,  a  single  inadvertent  word, 
might  close  the  career  of  Eugene  Valmont,  and  at  the 
same  moment  terminate  the  existence  of  the  quiet,  in- 
offensive Paul  Ducharme,  teacher  of  the  French  lan- 

63 


r 

O 
2 

C 

3 


The  Triumphs  of  Eugene  Valmont 


guage.    I  knew  perfectly  well  I  should  be  followed.    The 
moment  I  received  the  money  the  French  delegate  asked 
when  they  were  to  expect  me  in  Paris.     He  wished  to 
know  so  that  all  the  resources  of  their  organization 
might  be  placed  at  my  disposal.    I  replied  calmly  enough 
that  I  could  not  state  definitely  on  what  day  I  should 
leave  England.    There  was  plenty  of  time,  as  the  busi- 
ness  men's    representatives    from    London   would   not 
reach  Paris  for  another  two  weeks.    I  was  well  known 
to  the  majority  of  the  Paris  organization,  and  would 
present  myself  before  them  on  the  first  night  of  my 
arrival.    The  Paris  delegate  exhibited  all  the  energy  of 
a  new  recruit,  and  he  seemed  dissatisfied  with  my  vague- 
ness, but  I  went  on  without  heeding  his  displeasure.    He 
was  not  personally  known  to  me,  nor  I  to  him,  but,  if  I 
may  say  so,  Paul  Ducharme  was  well  thought  of  by  all 
the  rest  of  those  present. 

I  had  learned  a  great  lesson  during  the  episode  of 
the  queen's  necklace,  which  resulted  in  my  dismissal 
by  the  French  Government.  I  had  learned  that  if  you 
expect  pursuit  it  is  always  well  to  leave  a  clew  for  the 
pursuer  to  follow.  Therefore  I  continued  in  a  low  con- 
versational tone : 

"  I  shall  want  the  whole  of  to-morrow  for  myself :  I 
must  notify  my  pupils  of  my  absence.  Even  if  "iy  pupils 
leave  me  it  will  not  so  much  matter.  I  can  obably 
get  others.  But  what  does  matter  is  my  secretai ,  .1  work 
with  Monsieur  Valmont  of  the  Imperial  Flats.  I  am 
just  finishing  for  him  the  translation  of  a  volume  from 
French  into  English,  and  to-morrow  I  can  complete  the 

64 


The  Siamese  Twin  of  a  Bomb  Thrower 


work,  and  get  his  permission  to  leave  for  a  fortnight. 
This  man,  who  is  a  compatriot  of  my  own,  has  ^  en 
me  employment  ever  since  I  came  to  London.  From 
him  I  have  received  the  bulk  of  my  income,  and  if  it  had 
not  been  for  his  patronage,  I  do  not  know  what  I  should 
have  done.  I  not  only  have  no  desire  to  offend  him, 
but  I  wish  the  secretarial  work  to  continue  when  I  re- 
turn to  London." 

There  was  a  murmur  of  approval  at  this.  It  was 
generally  recognized  that  a  man's  living  should  not  be 
interferecf  with,  if  possible.  Anarchists  are  not  poverty- 
stricken  individuals,  as  most  people  think,  for  many 
of  them  hold  excellent  situations,  some  occupying  posi- 
tions of  great  trust,  which  is  rarely  betrayed. 

It  is  recognized  that  a  man's  duty,  not  only  to  him- 
self, but  to  the  organization,  is  to  make  all  the  money 
he  can,  and  thus  not  be  liable  to  fall  back  on  the  relief 
fund.  This  frank  admission  of  my  dependence  on  Val- 
mont  made  it  all  the  more  impossible  that  anyone  there 
listening  sliould  suspect  that  it  was  Valmont  himself 
who  was  addressing  the  conclave. 

"  You  will  then  take  the  night  train  to-morrow  for 
Paris  ?  "  persisted  the  inquisitive  French  delegate. 

"  Yes  and  no.  I  shall  take  the  night  train,  and  it 
shall  be  for  Paris,  but  not  from  Charing  Cross,  Victoria, 
or  Waterloo.  I  shall  travel  on  the  8.30  Continental  ex- 
press from  Liverpool  Street  to  Harwich,  cross  to  the 
Hook  of  Holland,  and  from  there  make  my  way  to  Paris 
through  Holland  and  Belgium.  I  wish  to  investigate 
that  route  as  a  possible  path  for  our  comrade  to  escape 

6S 


o 

C 


The  Triumphs  of  Eugene  Valmont 


After  the  blow  is  struck,  Calais.  Boulogne,  Dieppe,  and 
Havre  will  be  closely  watched.  I  shall  perhaps  bring 
him  to  London  by  way  of  Antwerp  and  the  Hook. 

These  amiable  disclosures  were  so  fully  in  keeping 
with  Paul  Ducharme's  reputation  for  candor  and  cau- 
tion, that  I  saw  they  made  an  excellent  impression  on 
my  audience,  and  here  the  chairman  intervened,  putting 
an  end  to  further  cross-examination  by  saying  they  all 
had  the  utmost  confidence  in  the  judgment  of  Monsieur 
Paul  Ducharme,  and  the  Paris  delegate  might  advise 
his  friends  to  be  on  the  lookout  for  the  London  repre- 
sentative within  the  next  three  or  four  days. 

I  left  the  meeting  and  went  directly  to  my  room 
in  Soho,   without  even  taking  the  trouble   to  observe 
whether  I  was  watched  or  not.    There  I  stayed  all  night, 
and  in  the  morning  quitted  Soho  as  Ducharme,  witli 
gray  beard  and  bowed  shoulders,  walked  west  to  the 
Imperial  Flats,  took  the  lift  to  the  top,  and,  seeing  the 
corridor   was  clear,   let  myself  into  my  own   flat.      I 
departed  from  my  flat  promptly  at  six  o'clock,  again  as 
Paul  Ducharme,  carrying  this  time  a  bundle  done  up  in 
brown  paper  under  my  arm,  and  proceeded  directly  to 
my  room  in  Soho.     Later  I  took  a  bus,  still  carrying 
my  brown  paper  parcel,  and  reached  Liverpool  Street 
in  ample  time  for  the  Continental  train.    By  a  little  pri- 
vate arrangement  with  the  guard,  I  secured  a  compart- 
ment for  myself,  although,  up  to  the  moment  the  train 
left  the  station,  I  could  not  be  sure  but  that  I  might  be 
compelled  to  take  the  trip  to  the  Hook  of  Holland  after 
all.     If  anyone  had  insisted  on  coming  into  my  com- 

66 


I 


The  Siamese  Twin  of  a  Bomb  Thrower 

partment,  I  should  have  crossed   the  North   Sea  tl'at 
night     I  knew  I  should  be  followed  from  Soho  to  the 
station    and  that  probably  the  spy  would  go  as  far  as 
Harwich,  and  see  me  on  the  boat.     It  was  doubtful  if 
he  would  cross.     I  had  chosen  this  route  for  the  reason 
that  we  have  no  organization  in  Holland:  the  nearest 
circle  ,s  in  Brussels,  and  if  there  had  been  time,  the 
Brussels  circle  would  have  been  warned  to  keep  an  eye 
on  me.    There  was,  however,  no  time  for  a  letter   and 
anarchists  never  use  the  telegraph,  especially  so  far  as 
the  Continent  is  concerned,  unless  in  cases  of  the  great- 
est emergency.     If  they  telegraphed  my  description  to 
Brussels,  the  chances  were  it  would  not  be  an  anarchist 
who  watched  my  landing,  but  a  member  of  the  Belgian 
police  force. 

The  8.30  Continental  express  does  not  stop  between 
Liverpool  Street  and  Parkeston  Quay,  which  it  is  timed 
to  reach  three  minutes  before  ten.     This  gave  me  an 
hour  and  a  half  in  which  to  change  my  apparel.     The 
garments  of  the  poor  old  professor  I  rolled  up  into  a 
ball,  one  by  one,  and  flung  out  through  the  open  window, 
far  into  the  marsh  past  which  we  were  flying  in  a  pitch- 
flark  night.    Coat,  trousers,  and  waistcoat  rested  in  sep- 
arate swamps  at  least  ten  miles  apart.     Gray  whiskers 
and  gray  wig  I  tore  into  little  pieces,  and  dropped  t  . 
bits  out  of  the  open  window. 

I  had  taken  the  precaution  to  secure  a  compartment 
in,  the  front  of  the  train,  and  when  it  came  to  rest  at 
Parkeston  Quay  Station,  the  crowd,  eager  for  the 
steamer,  rushed  past  me,  and  I  stepped  out  into  the  midst 

67 


C 

3 


The  Triumphs  of  Etif^ene  Valmont 


)f 


dapper, 


ell-dresscd  young  man,  with  black 
beard  and  mustaches,  my  own  closely  cropped  black  hair 
covered  by  a  new  bowler  hat.  Anyone  looking  for  Paul 
Ducharme  would  have  paid  small  attention  to  me,  and 
to  any  friend  of  Valmont's  T  was  equally  unrecognizable. 
I  strolled  in  leisurely  manner  to  the  Great  Eastern 
Hotel  on  the  Quay,  and  asked  the  clerk  if  a  portmanteau 
addressed  to  Mr.  John  Wilkins  had  arrived  that  day 
from  London.  He  said  "  Yes,"  whereupon  I  secured  a 
room  for  the  night,  as  the  last  train  had  already  left  for 
the  metropolis. 

Next  morning,  Mr.  John  Wilkins.  accompanied  by  a 
brand-new  and  rather  expensive  portmanteau,  took  the 
9.57  train  for  Liverpool  Street,  where  he  arrived  at  half 
past  ten,  stepped  iito  a  cab,  and  drove  to  the  Savoy  Res- 
taurant, lunching  there  with  the  portmanteau  deposited 
in  the  cloakroom.     When  John   Wilkins  had   finished 
an  excellent  lunch  in  a  leisurely  manner  at  the  Cafe 
Parisien  of  the  Savoy,  and  had  paid  his  bill,  he  did  not 
go  out  into  the  Strand  over  the  rubber-paved  court  by 
which  he  had  entered,  but  went  through  the  hotel  and 
down  the  stairs,  and  so  out  into  the  thoroughfare  facing 
the  Embankment.    Then  turning  to  his  right  he  reached 
the   Embankment   entrance  of  the  Hotel   Cecil.     This 
leads  into  a  long  dark  corridor,  at  the  end  of  which 
the  lift  may  be  rung  for.    It  does  not  come  lower  than 
the  floor  above  unless  specially  summoned.    In  this  dark 
corridor,  which  was  empty,  John  Wilkins  took  oflf  the 
black  beard  and  mustache,  hid  it  in  the  inside  rx)cket  of 
his  coat,  and  there  went  up  into  the  lift  a  few  moments 

68 


>SH;ii.'':ja¥T. 


The  Siamese  Twin  of  a  Bomb  Th 


rower 


later  to  the  office  floor,  I,  Eugene  Valrnont,  myscl     ,  r 
the  first  time  in  several  days. 

Even  then  I  did  not  take  a  cab  to  my  flat,  but  passed 
tmder  the  arched  Strand  front  of  the  Cecil  in  a  cab, 
bound    for   the   residence  of  that   noblrman   who   had 
formerly  engaged  me  to  see  after  the  safety  of  the  king. 
You  will  say  that  this  was  all  very  elaborate  precau- 
tion to  take  when  a  man  w:>';  not  even  sure  he  was  fol- 
lowed.    To  tell  you  the  truth    I  do  not  know  to  this 
day  whether  anyone  watc!n.'d  v  <   or  not.  v"r  dW  care. 
I  live  in  the  present:  whon  ow-  t!.o  past  is  don.-  with, 
it  ceases  to  exist  for  me.     It  is  q.iite  possible,  nay,  en- 
tirely probable,  that  no  one  tracked  me   farther  than 
Liverpool  Street  Station  the  night  before,  yet  it  was  for 
lack  of  such  precaution  that  my  assistant  Rrisson  re- 
ceived the   Italian's  dagger  under  his   shoulder  blade 
fifteen  years  before.     The  present  moment  is  ever  the 
critical  time;  the  future  is  merely  for  intelligent  fore- 
thought.    It  was  to  prepare  for  the  future  that  I  was 
now  in  a  cab  on  the  way  to  my  lord's  residence.    It  was 
not  the  French  anarchists  I  feared  during  the  contest 
in  which  I  was  about  to  become  engaged,  but  the  Paris 
police.    I  knew  French  officialdom  too  well  not  to  un- 
derstand the  futility  of  going  to  the  authorities  there 
and  proclaiming  my  object.    If  I  ventured  to  approach 
the  Chief  of  Police  with  the  information  that  I,  in  Lon- 
don, had  discovered  what  it  was  his  business  in  Paris 
to  know,  my  reception  would  be  far  from  cordial,  even 
though,  or  rather  because,  I  announced  myself  as  Eu- 
gene Valmont.     The  exploits  of  Eugene  had  become 

69 


r- 


3 


The  Triumphs  of  Eugene  Valmont 


part  of  the  legends  of  Paris,  and  these  legends  were  ex- 
tremely distasteful  to  those  then  in  power.    My  doings 
have  frequently  been  made  the  subject  of  feuilletons  in 
the  columns  of  the  Paris  press,  and  were,  of  course,  ex- 
aggerated by  the  imagination  of  the  writers,  yet,  never- 
theless, I  admit  I  did  some  good  strokes  of  detection 
during  my  service  with  che  French  Government.     It  is 
but  natural,   then,   that  the  present  authorities  should 
listen  with  some  impatience  when  tlie  name  of  Eugene 
Valmont  is  mentioned.    I  recognize  this  as  quite  in  the 
order  of  things  to  be  expected,  and  am  honest  enough 
to  confess  that  in  ray  own  time  I  often  hearkened  to 
narratives  regarding  the  performances  of  Lecocq  with  a 
doubting  shrug  of  the  shoulders. 

Now,  if  the  French  police  knew  anything  of  this  an- 
archist plot,  which  was  quite  within  the  bounds  of  pos- 
sibility, and  if  I  were  in       -reptitious  communication 
with  the  anarchists,  more  especially  with  the  man  who 
was  to  fling  the  bomb,  there  was  every  chance  I  might 
find  myself  in  the  grip  of  French  justice.    I  must,  then, 
provide  myself  with  credentials   to  show  that   I   was 
acting,  not  against  the  peace  and  quiet  of  my  country, 
but  on  the  side  of  law  and  order.    I  therefore  wished  to 
get  from  the  nobleman  a  commission  in  writing,  similar 
to  that  command  which  he  had  placed  upon  me  during 
the  king's  visit.     This  commission   I   should   lodge  at 
my  bank  in  Paris,  to  be  a  voucher  for  me  at  the  last  ex- 
tremity.    I  had  no  doubt  his  lordship  would  empower 
me  to  act  in  this  instance  as  I  had  acted  on  two  former 
occasions. 

70 


-^^^riga^xi^^:aBsr^a!W^^^^R«»^iig?;jft&i^g^^^tA^^ 


CHAPTER  VI 


A    REBUFF   AND   A   RESPONSE 

|ERHAPS  if  I  had  not  lunched  so  well  I 
might  have  approached  his  lordship  with 
greater  deference  than  was  the  case;  but 
when  ordering  lunch  I  permitted  a  bottle 
of  Chateau  du  Tertre,  1878,  a  most  deli- 
cious claret,  to  be  decanted  carefully  for  my  delectation 
at  the  tabic,  and  this  caused  a  genial  glow  to  permeate 
throughout  my  system,  inducing  a  mental  optimism 
which  left  me  ready  to  salute  the  greatest  of  earth  on  a 
plane  of  absolute  equality.  Besides,  after  all,  I  am  a 
citizen  of  a  Republic. 

The  nobleman  received  me  with  frigid  correctness, 
implying  disapproval  of  my  unauthorized  visit,  rather 
than  expressing  it.    Our  interview  was  extremely  brief. 
"  I  had  the  felicity  of  ser-  :ng  your  lordship  upon 
two  occasions,"  I  began. 

•'They  are  well  within  my  r'^collection,"  he  inter- 
rupted, "  but  I  do  not  remember  sending  for  you  a  third 
time." 

"  I  have  taken  the  liberty  of  coming  unrequested,  my 
lord,  because  of  the  importance  of  the  news  I  carry.  I 
surmise  that  you  are  interested  in  the  promotion  of 
friendship  between  France  and  England." 

71 


O 

3 


The  Triumphs  of  Eugene  Vahnont 


"  Your  surmise,  sir,  is  incorrect.  I  care  not  a  button 
about  it.  My  only  anxiety  was  for  the  safety  of  the 
king." 

Even  the  superb  claret  was  not  enough  to  fortify 
me  against  words  so  harsh  and  tones  so  discourteous  as 
those  his  lordship  permitted  himself  to  use. 

"  Sir,"  said  I,  dropping  the  title  in  my  rising  anger, 
"  it  may  interest  you  to  know  that  a  number  of  your 
countrymen  run  the  risk  of  being  blown  to  eternity  by  an 
anarchist  bomb  in  less  than  two  weeks  from  to-day. 
A  party  of  business  men,  true  representatives  of  a  class 
to  which  the  preeminence  of  your  empire  is  due,  are 

about  to  proceed " 

"  Pray  spare  me,"  interpolated  his  lordship  wearily. 
"  I  have  read  that  sort  of  thing  so  often  in  the  news- 
papers. If  all  ihese  estimable  City  men  are  blown  up. 
the  empire  would  doubtless  miss  them,  as  you  hint,  but 
I  should  not,  and  their  fate  does  not  interest  me  in 
the  least,  although  you  did  me  the  credit  of  believing 
that  it  would.  Thompson,  will  you  show  this  person 
out?  Sir,  if  I  desire  your  presence  here  in  future,  I  will 
send  for  you." 

"  You  may  send  for  the  devil !  "  I  cried,  now  thor- 
oughly enraged,  the  wine  getting  the  better  of  me. 

"  You  express  my  meaning  more  tersely  than  I 
cared  to  do,"  he  replied  coldly,  and  that  was  the  last  I 
ever  saw  of  him. 

Entering  the  cab  I  now  drove  to  my  flat,  indignant 
at  the  reception  I  had  met  with.  However,  I  knew  the 
English  people  too  well  to  malign  them  for  the  action 

72 


A  Rebuff  and  a  Response 


of  one  of  their  number,  and  resentment  never  dwells 
long  with  me.    Arriving  at  my  rooms  I  looked  through 
the  newspapers  to  learn  all  I  could  cf  the  proposed  busi- 
ness men's  excursion  to  Paris,  and,  in  reading  the  names 
of  those  most  prominent  in  carrying  out  the  necessary 
arrangements,  I  came  across  that  of  W.  Raymond  White, 
which  caused  me  to  sit  back  in  my  chair  and  wrinkle 
my  brow  in  an  endeavor  to  stir  my  memory.    Unless  I 
was  much  mistaken,  I  had  been  so  happy  as  to  oblige  this 
gentleman  some  dozen  or  thirteen  years  before.    As  I  re- 
membered him,  he  was  a  business  man  who  engaged  in 
large  transactions   with   France,   dealing  especially   in 
Lyons  and  that  district.    His  address  was  given  in  the 
newspaper  as  Old  'Change,  so  at  once  I  resolved  to  see 
him.     Although  I  could  not  recall  the  details  of  our 
previous  meeting,  if,  indeed,  he  should  turn  out  to  be 
the  same  person,  yet  the  mere  sight  of  the  name  had 
produced  a  mental  pleasure,  as  a  chance  chord  struck 
may  brmg  a  grateful  harmony  to  the  mind.     I  deter- 
mmed  to  get  my  credentials  from  Mr.  White  if  possible, 
for  his  recommendation  would  in  truth  be  much  more 
valuable  than  that  of  the  gruff  old  nobleman  to  whom  I 
had  first  applied,  because,  if  I  got  into  trouble  with 
the  police  of  Paris,  I  was  well  enough  acquainted  with 
the  natural  politeness  of  the  authorities  to  know  that  a 
letter  from  one  of  the  city's  guests  would  secure  my 
instant  release. 

I  took  a  hansom  to  the  head  of  that  narrow  thor- 
oughfare known  as  Old  'Change,  and  there  dismissed 
my  cab.    I  was  so  fortunate  as  to  recognize  Mr.  White 
®  7i 


The  Triumphs  of  Eugene  Valmont 


coming  out  of  his  office.    A  moment  later,  and  I  should 
have  missed  him. 

"  Mr.  White,"  I  accosted  him,  "  I  desire  to  enjoy 
both  the  pleasure  and  the  honor  of  introducing  myself 
to  you." 

"  Monsieur,"  replied  Mr.  White,  with  a  smile,  "  the 
introduction  is  not  necessary,  and  the  pleasure  and  honor 
are  mine.  Unless  I  am  very  much  mistaken,  this  is 
Monsieur  Valmont  of  Paris  ?  " 

"  I^te  of  Paris,"  I  corrected. 

"Are  you  no  longer  in  Government  service  then?" 

'•  For  a  little  more  than  ten  years  I  have  been  a  resi- 
dent of  London." 

"What,  and  have  never  let  me  know?  That  is 
something  the  diplomatists  call  an  unfriendly  act,  mon- 
sieur. Now,  shall  we  return  to  my  office,  or  go  to 
a  cafe  ?  " 

"  To  your  office,  if  you  please.  Mr.  White,  I  come 
on  rather  important  business." 

Entering  his  private  office  the  merchant  closed  the 
door,  offered  me  a  chair,  and  sat  down  himself  by  his 
desk.  From  the  first  he  had  addressed  me  in  French, 
which  he  spoke  with  an  accent  so  pure  that  it  did  my 
lonesome  heart  good  to  hear  it. 

'  I  called  upon  you  half  a  dozen  years  ago,"  he  went 
on,  "  when  I  was  over  in  Paris  on  a  festive  occasion, 
where  I  hoped  to  secure  your  company,  but  I  could  not 
learn  definitely  whether  you  were  still  with  the  Govern- 
ment or  not." 

"  It  is  the  way  of  French  officialism,"  I  replied.    "  If 

74 


A  Rebuff  and  a  Resp 


onse 


they  knew  my  whereabouts  they  would  keep  the  knowl- 
edge  to  themselves." 

"  Well,  if  you  have  been  ten  years  in  London,  Mon- 
sieur  Valmont,  we  may  now  perhaps  have  the  pleasure 
of  claimmg  you  as  an  Englishman ;  so  I  beg  you  will 
accompany  us  on  another  festive  occasion  to  Paris  next 
week.  Perhaps  you  have  seen  that  a  number  of  us  are 
going  over  there  to  make  the  welkin  ring." 

"Yes,  I  have  read  all  about  the  business  men's  ex- 
cursion to  Paris,  and  it  is  with  reference  to  this  journey 
that  I  wish  to  consult  you,"  and  here  I  gave  Mr.  White 
m  detail  the  plot  of  the  anarchists  against  the  growing 
cordiality  of  the  two  countries.  The  merchant  listened 
quietly,  without  interruption,  until  I  had  finished;  then 
he  said : 

;  I  suppose  it  will  be  rather  useless  to  inform  the 
police  of  Paris  ?  " 

"  Indeed.  Mr.  White,  it  is  the  police  of  Paris  I  fear 
more  than  the  anarchists.     They  would  resent  informa- 
tion coming  to  them  from  the  outside,  especially  from 
an  ex-offical,  the  inference  being  that  thev  were  not  up 
to  their  own  duties.     Friction  and  delay'  would  ensue 
until  the  deed  was  inevitable.     It  is  quite  on  the  cards 
that  the  police  of  Paris  may  have  some  inkling  of  the 
plot,  and  in  that  case,  just  before  the  event,  they  are 
reasonably  certain  to  arrest  the  wrong  men.     I  shall  be 
moving  about  Paris,  not  as  Eugene  Valmont.   but  as 
iaul  Ducharme.  the  anarchist;  therefore  there  is  some 
danger  that  as  a  stranger  and  a  suspect  I  may  be  laid 
by  the  heels  at  the  critical  moment.    If  you  would  be  so 

75 


i 

03 


I 


The  Triumphs  of  Eugene  Valmont 


good  as  to  furnish  me  with  credentials  which  I  can  de 
posit  somewhere  in  Paris  in  case  of  need,  I  may  thus  be 
able  to  convince  the  authorities  that  they  have  taken 
the  wrong  man," 

Mr.  White,  entirely  unperturbed  by  the  prospect  of 
having  a  bomb  thrown  at  him  within  two  weeks,  calmly 
wrote  several  documents,  then  turned  his  untroubled  face 
to  me,  and  said,  in  a  very  confidential,  winning  tone : 

"  Monsieur  Valmont,  you  have  stated  the  case  with 
that  clear  comprehensiveness  pertaining  to  a  nation 
which  understands  the  meaning  of  words,  and  the  cor- 
rect adjustment  of  them ;  that  felicity  of  language  which 
has  given  France  the  first  place  in  the  literature  of  na- 
tions. Consequently,  I  think  I  see  very  clearly  the  deli- 
cacies of  the  situation.  We  may  expect  hindrances. 
rather  than  help,  from  officials  on  either  side  of  the 
Channel.  Secrecy  is  essential  to  success.  Have  you 
spoken  of  this  to  anyone  but  me  ?  " 

"  Only  to  Lord  Blank,"  I  replied ;  "  and  now  I  deeply 
regret  having  made  a  confidant  of  him." 

"  That  does  not  in  the  least  matter,"  said  Mr.  White. 
with  a  smile ;  "  Lord  Blank's  mind  is  entirely  occupied 
by  his  own  greatness.  Chemists  tell  me  that  you  can- 
not add  a  new  ingredient  to  a  saturated  solution ;  there- 
fore your  revelation  will  have  made  no  impression  upon 
his  lordship's  intellect.  He  has  already  forgotten  all 
about  it.  Am  I  right  in  supposing  that  everything 
hinges  on  the  man  who  is  to  throw  the  bomb  ? " 

"  Quite  right,  sir.  He  may  be  venal,  he  may  be  trai- 
torous, he  may  be  a  coward,  he  may  be  revengeful,  he 

76 


A  Rebuff  and  a  Response 


may  be  a  drunkard.  Before  I  am  in  conversation  with 
him  for  ten  minutes,  I  shall  know  what  his  weak  spot 
IS.  It  is  upon  that  spot  I  must  act,  and  my  action  must 
be  delayed  till  the  very  last  moment;  for,  if  he  disappears 
loo  long  before  the  event,  his  first,  second,  or  third  sub- 
stitute will  instantly  step  into  his  place." 

"  Precisely.    So  you  cannot  complete  your  plans  un- 
til you  have  met  this  man  ?  " 
"  Parfaitement." 

"  Then  I  propose,"  continued  Mr.  White,  "  that  we 
take  no  one  into  our  confidence.  In  a  case  like  this 
there  is  little  use  in  going  before  a  committee.  I  can 
see  that  you  do  not  need  any  advice,  and  my  own  part 
shall  be  to  remain  in  the  background,  content  to  support 
the  most  competent  man  that  could  have  been  chosen 
to  grapple  with  a  very  difficult  crisis." 

I  bowed  profoundly.  There  was  a  compliment  in  his 
glance  as  well  as  in  his  words.  Never  before  had  I  met 
so  charming  a  man. 

"  Here,"  he  continued,  handing  me  one  of  the  papers 
he  had  written,  "  is  a  letter  to  whom  it  may  concern, 
appomting  you  my  agent  for  the  next  three  weeks  and 
holding  myself  responsible  for  all  you  see  fit  to  do. 
Here."  he  went  on,  passing  to  me  a  second  sheet,  "  is 
a  letter  of  introduction  to  Monsieur  Largent,  the  man- 
ager of  my  bank  in  Paris,  a  man  well  known  and  highly 
respected  in  all  circles,  both  official  and  commercial.  I 
suggest  that  you  introduce  yourself  to  him,  and  he  will 
iiold  himself  in  readiness  to  respond  to  any  call  you 
may  make,  night  or  day.     J  assure  you  that  his  mere 

77 


r-n 

O 
12 

I 


The  Triumphs  of  Eugene  Valmont 

presence  before  the  authorities  will  at  once  remove  any 
ordinary  difficulty.  And  now,"  he  added,  taking  in  hand 
the  third  slip  of  paper,  speaking  with  some  hesitation, 
and  choosing  his  words  with  care,  "  I  come  to  a  point 
which  cannot  be  ignored.  Money  is  a  magician's  wand, 
which,  like  faith,  will  remove  mountains.  It  may  also 
remove  an  anarchist  hovering  about  the  route  of  a  busi- 
ness man's  procession." 

He  now  handed  to  me  what  I  saw  was  a  draft  on 
Paris  for  a  thousand  pounds. 

"  I  assure  you,  monsieur,"  I  protested,  covered  with 
confusion,  "  that  no  thought  of  money  was  in  my  mind 
when  I  took  the  liberty  of  presenting  myself  to  you.  I 
have  already  received  more  than  I  could  have  expected 
in  the  generous  confidence  you  were  good  enough  to  re- 
pose in  me,  as  exhibited  by  these  credentials,  and  es- 
pecially the  letter  to  your  banker.  Thanks  to  the  gener- 
osity of  your  countrymen,  Mr.  White,  of  which  you  are 
a  most  notable  example,  I  am  in  no  need  of  money." 

"Monsieur  Valmont,  I  am  delighted  to  hear  that 
you  have  got  on  well  among  us.  This  money  is  for  two 
purposes.  First,  you  will  use  what  you  need.  I  know 
Paris  very  well,  monsieur,  and  have  never  found  gold 
an  embarrassment  there.  The  second  purpose  is  this :  I 
suggest  that  when  you  present  the  letter  of  introduction 
to  Monsieur  Largent,  you  will  casually  piace  this  amount 
to  your  account  in  his  Dank.  He  will  thus  see  that,  be- 
sides writing  you  a  letter  of  introduction,  I  transfer  a 
certain  amount  of  my  own  balance  to  your  credit.  That 
will  do  you  no  harm  with  him,  I  assure  you.    And  now, 

78 


A  Rebuff  and  a  Response 


Monsieur  Valmont,  it  only  remains  for  me  to  thank  you 
for  the  opportunity  you  have  given  nic,  and  to  assure 
you  that  I  shall  march  from  the  Gare  du  Nord  without 
a  tremor,  knowing  the  outcome  is  in  such  capable 
custody." 

And  then  this  estimable  man  shook  hands  with  me 
in  action  the  most  cordial.  I  walked  away  from  Old 
'Change  as  if  I  trod  upon  air ;  a  feeling  vastly  diflFerent 
from  thi':  with  which  I  departed  from  the  residence  of 
the  old  nobleman  in  the  West  End  but  a  few  hours 
before. 


o 

C 


79 


CHAPTER  VII 


IN   THE  GRIP  OP  THE  GREEN   DEMON 


|EXT  morning  I  was  in  Paris,  and  next 
night  I  attended  the  underground  meet- 
ing of  the  anarchists,  held  within  a  quar- 
ter of  a  mile  of  the  Luxembourg.  I  was 
known  to  many  there  assembled,  but  my 
acquaintance,  of  course,  was  not  so  large  as  with  the 
London  circle.  They  had  half  expected  me  the  night 
before,  knowing  that  even  going  by  the  Hook  of  Holland 
I  might  have  reached  Paris  in  time  for  the  conclave.  I 
was  introduced  generally  to  the  assemblage  as  the  emis- 
sary from  England,  who  was  to  assist  the  bomb-throw- 
ing brother  to  escape  either  to  that  country,  or  to  such 
other  point  of  safety  as  I  might  choose.  No  questions 
were  asked  me  regarding  my  doings  of  the  day  before, 
nor  was  I  required  to  divulge  the  plans  for  my  fellow- 
member's  escape.  I  was  responsible;  that  was  enough. 
If  I  failed,  through  no  fault  of  my  own,  it  was  but  part 
of  the  ill  luck  we  were  all  prepared  to  face.  If  I  failed 
through  treachery,  then  a  dagger  in  the  back  at  the  ear- 
liest possible  moment.  We  all  knew  the  conditions  of 
our  sinister  contract,  and  we  all  recognized  that  the  least 
said  the  better. 

80 


^SBFAismet  iA1kM!iiif.>^ltT*V:S- 


.<.:-4t»'.\.K.-^'fKr'Sit: 


In  the  Grip  of  the  Green  Demon 


The  cellar  was  dimly  lighted  by  one  oil  lamp  depend- 
ing from  the  ceiling.  From  this  hung  a  cord  attached 
to  an  ext  fuisher,  and  one  jerk  of  the  cord  would  put 
out  the  light.  Then,  while  the  main  entry  doors  were 
being  battered  down  by  police,  the  occupants  of  the  room 
would  escape  through  one  of  three  or  four  human  rat 
holes  provided  for  that  purpose. 

If  any  Parisian  anarchist  does  me  the  honor  to  read 
these  jottings,  I  beg  to  inform  him  that  while  I  remained 
in  office  under  the  Government  of  France  there   was 
never  a  time  when  I  did  not  knov.-  the  exit  of  each  of 
these  underground  passages,  and  could,  during  any  night 
there  was  a  conference,  have  bagged  the  whole  lot  of 
those  there  assembled.     It  was  never  my  purpose,  how- 
ever, to  shake  the  anarchists'  confidence  in  their  system, 
for  that  merely  meant  the  removal  of  the  gathering  to  an- 
other spot,  thus  giving  us  the  additional  trouble  of  map- 
ping out  their  new  exits  and  entrances.  When  I  did  make 
a  raid  on  anarchist  headquarters  in  Paris,  it  was  always 
to  secure  some  particular  man.    I  had  my  emissaries  in 
plain  clothes  stationed  at  each  exit.     In  any  case,  the 
rats  were  allowed  to  escape  unmolested,  sneaking  forth 
with  great  caution  into  the  night,  but  we  always  spotted 
the  man  we  wanted  and  almost  invariably  arrested  him 
elsewhere,   having  followed  him   from  his  kennel.     In 
each  case  my  uniformed  officers  found  a  dark  and  empty 
cellar,  and  retired  apparently  baffled.     But  the  coinci- 
dence that  on  the  night  of  every  raid  some  member 
there  present  was  secretly  arrested  in  another  quarter 
of  Paris,  and  perhaps  given  a  free  passage  to  Russia, 

8i 


5 

3 


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h\V-fi 


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'^^^^ 


T*r 


MICROCOPY   RESOLUTION   TEST   CHART 

(ANSI  and  ISO  TEST  CHART  No    2) 


1.0 


I.I 


1.25 


■^  IIIIM 

11? 

|56       1^2 

121 

136 


1.4 


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A  >IPPLIED  IIVMGE     Inc 

^^  1653   East    Mom    Street 

rjS  Rochester.    Ne«   York         14609       USA 

^=  (716)   482  -  OJOO  -  Phone 

^=  (716)   288  -  5989  -  Fax 


The  Triumphs  of  Eugene  Valmont 


never  seemed  to  awaken  suspicion  in  the  minds  of  the 
conspirators. 

I  think  the  London  anarchists'  method  is  much  bet- 
ter, and  I  have  ever  considered  the  English  nihilist  the 
most  dangerous  of  this  fraternity,  for  he  is  cool-headed 
and  not  carried  away  by  his  own  enthusiasm,  and  con- 
sequently rarely  carried  away  by  his  own  police.     The 
authorities  of  London  meet  no  opposition  in  making  a 
raid.    They  find  a  well-lighted  room  containing  a  more 
or  less  shabby  coterie  playing  cards  at  cheap  pine  tables. 
There  is  no  money  visible,  and,  indeed,  very  little  coin 
would   be  brought  to  light   if  the   whole   party   were 
searched ;  so  the  police  are  unable  to  convict  the  players 
under  the  Gambling  Act.     Besides,  it  is  difficult  in  any 
case  to  obtain  a  conviction  under  the  Gambling  Act, 
because  the  accused  has  the  sympathy  of  the  whole  coun- 
try with  him.     It  has  always  been  to  me  one  of  the 
anomalies  of  the  English  nature  that  a  magistrate  can 
keep  a  straight  face  while  he  fines  some  poor  wretch  for 
gambling,  knowing  that  next  race  day  (if  the  court  is 
not  sitting)  the  magistrate  himself,  in  correct  sporting 
costume,  with  binoculars  hanging  at  his  hip,  will  be  on 
the  lawn  by  the  course,  backing  his  favorite  horse. 

After  my  reception  at  the  anarchists'  club  of  Paris, 
I  remained  seated  unobtrusively  on  a  bench,  waiting  un- 
til routine  business  was  finished,  after  which  I  expected 
an  introduction  to  the  man  selected  to  throw  the  bomb. 
I  am  a  very  sensitive  person,  and  sitting  there  quietly  I 
became  aware  that  I  was  being  scrutinized  with  more 
than  ordinary  intensity  by  some  one,  which  gave  me  a 

82 


^i^"jfiir 


In  the  Grip  of  the  Green  Demon 


feeling  of  uneasiness.    At  last,  in  the  semiobscurity  op- 
posite me,  I  saw  a  pair  of  eyes,  as  luminous  as  those  of 
a  tiger,  peering  fixedly  at  me.    I  returned  the  stare  with 
such  composure  as  I  could  bring  to  my  aid,  and  the  man 
as  if  fascinated  by  a  look  as  steady  as  his  own,  leaned 
forward,  and  came  more  and  more  into  the  circle  of 
light.    Then  I  received  a  shock  which  it  required  my  ut- 
most self-control  to  conceal.     The  face,  haggard  and 
drawn,  was  none  other  than  that  of  Adolph  Simard,  who 
had  been  my  second  assistant  in  the  S_>cret  S-^rvi'ce  of 
France  during  my  last  year  in  office.     He  was  a  most 
capable  and  rising  young  man  at  that  time,  and    of 
course,  he  knew  me  well.    Had  he.  then,  penetrated'  my 
disguise?     Such  an  event  seemed  impossible;  he  could 
not  have  recognized  my  v. ice,  for  I  had  said  nothing 
aloud  since  entering  the  room,  my  few  words  to  the 
president  being  spoken  in  a  whisper.    Simard's  presence 
there  bewildered  me;  by  this  time  he  should  be  high 
up  in  the  Secret  Service.     If  he  were  now  a  spy,  he 
would,  of  course,  wish  to  familiarize  himself  with  every 
particular  of  my  appearance,  as  in  my  hands  lay  the  es- 
cape of  the  criminal.    Yet,  if  such  were  his  mission,  why 
did  he  attract  the  attention  of  all  members  by  this  open- 
eyed  scrutiny?     That  he  recognized  me  as  Valmont  I 
had  not  the  least  fear;  my  disguise  was  too  perfect;  and, 
even  if  I  were  there  in  my  own  proper  person    I  had 
not  seen  Simard,  nor  he  me,  for  ten  years,  and  great 
changes  occur  in  a  man's  appearance  during  so  long  a 
period.     Yet  I  remembered  with  disquietude  that  Mr 
White  recognized  me,  and  here  to-night  I  had  recognized 

83 


C 
I 

9 


.»^?Vi 


The  Triumphs  of  Eugene  Valmont 

Simard.  I  could  not  move  my  bench  farther  back  be- 
cause it  stood  already  against  the  wall.  Simard,  on  the 
contrary,  was  seated  on  one  of  the  few  chairs  in  the 
room,  and  this  he  periodically  hitched  forward,  the  bet- 
ter to  continue  his  examination,  which  now  attracted 
the  notice  of  others  besides  myself.  As  he  came  for- 
ward, I  could  not  help  admiring  the  completeness  of  his 
disguise  so  far  as  apparel  was  concerned.  He  was  a 
perfect  picture  of  the  Paris  wastrel,  and,  what  was  more, 
he  wore  on  his  head  a  cap  of  the  Apaches,  the  most  dan- 
gerous band  of  cutthroats  that  have  ever  cursed  a  civil- 
ized city.  I  could  understand  that  even  among  lawless 
anarchists  this  badge  of  membership  of  the  Apache 
band  might  well  strike  terror.  I  felt  that  before  the 
meeting  adjourned  I  must  speak  with  him,  and  I  de- 
termined to  begin  our  conversation  by  asking  him  why 
he  stared  so  fixedly  at  me.  Yet  even  then  I  should  have 
made  little  progress.  I  did  not  dare  to  hint  that  he  be- 
longed to  the  Secret  Service;  nevertheless,  if  the  au- 
thorities had  this  plot  in  charge,  it  was  absolutely  nec- 
essary we  should  work  together,  or,  at  least,  that  I 
should  know  they  were  in  the  secret,  and  steer  my  course 
accordingly.  The  fact  that  Simard  appeared  with  un- 
disguised face  was  not  so  important  as  might  appear  to 
an  outsider.  It  is  always  safer  for  a  spy  to  preserve  his 
natural  appearance  if  that  is  possible,  because  a  false 
beard  or  false  mustache  or  wig  runs  the  risk  of  being 
deranged  or  torn  away.  As  I  have  said,  an  anarchist 
assemblage  is  simply  a  room  filled  with  the  atmosphere 
of  suspicion.    I  have  known  instances  where  an  innocent 

84 


O 

3 


■'  I  returned  the  start'  with  such  compoMirc  as  I  could  bring  to 

my  aid." 


In  the  Grip  of  the  Green  Demon 


stranger  was  suddenly  set  upon  in  the  midst  of  solemn 
proceedings  by  two  or  three  impetuous  fellow-members, 
who  nearly  jerked  his  own  whiskers  from  his  face  under 
the  impression  that  they  were  false.  If  Simard,  there- 
fore, appeared  in  his  own  scraggy  beard  and  unkempt 
hair,  it  meant  that  he  communicated  with  headquarters 
by  some  circuitous  route.  I  realized,  therefore,  that  a 
very  touchy  bit  of  diplomacy  awaited  me  if  I  was  to 
learn  from  himself  his  actual  status.  While  I  pondered 
over  this  perplexity,  it  was  suddenly  dissolved  by  the 
action  of  the  president,  and  another  substituted  for  it. 

"  Will  Brother  Simard  come  forward  ? "  asked  the 
president. 

My  former  subordinate  removed  his  eyes  from  me, 
slowly  rose  from  his  chair,  and  shuffled  up  to  the  presi- 
dent's table. 

"  Brothc-  Ducharme,"  said  that  official  to  me  in  a 
quiet  tone.  "  I  introduce  you  to  Brother  Simard,  whom 
you  are  commissioned  to  see  into  a  place  of  safety  when 
he  has  dispersed  the  procession." 

Simard  turned  his  fishy  goggle-eyes  upon  me,  and 
a  grin  disclosed  wolf-like  teeth.  He  held  out  his  hand, 
which,  rising  to  my  feet,  I  took.  He  gave  me  a  flabby 
grasp,  and  all  the  time  his  inquiring  eyes  traveled  over 
me. 

"  You  don't  look  up  to  much,"  he  said.  "  What  are 
you?" 

"  I  am  a  teacher  of  the  French  language  in  London." 
"  Umph !  "  growled  Simard,  evidently  in  no  wise  pre- 
possessed by  my  appearance.     "  I  thought  you  weren't 

85 


i 

Co 

3 


The  :  riumphs  of  Eugene  Falmoni 


much  of  a  fighter.    The  gendarmes  will  make  short  work 
of  this  fellow,"  he  growled  to  the  chairman. 

"Brother  Ducharme  is  vouched   for  by  the  whole 
English  circle,"  replied  the  president  firmly. 

"  Oh,  the  English  I    I  think  very  little  of  them.    Still, 
it  doesn't  matter,"  and  with  a  shrug  of  the  shoulders  he 
shuffled  to  his  seat  again,  leaving  me  standing  there  in 
a  very  embarrassed  state  of  nind,  my  brain  in  a  whirl. 
That  the  man  was  present  with  his  own  face  was  be- 
wildering enough,  but  that  he  should  be  here  under  his 
own  name  was  simply  astounding.     I  scarcely  heard 
what  the  president  said.     It  seemed  to  the  effect  that 
Simard  would  take  me  to  his  own  room,  where  we  might 
talk  over  our  plans.    And  now  Simard  rose  again  from 
his  chair,  and  said  to  the  president  that  if  nothing  more 
were  wanted  of  him  we  would  go.    Accordingly  we  left 
the  place  of  meeting  together.     I  watched  my  comrade 
narrowly.    There  was  now  a  trembling  eagerness  in  his 
action,  and  without  a  word  he  hurried  me  to  the  nearest 
cafe,  where  we  sat  down  before  a  little  iron  table  on 
the  pavement. 

"  Gargon,"  he  shouted  harshly.  "  bring  me  four  ab- 
sinths.   What  will  you  drink,  Ducharme  ? " 
"  A  cafe-cognac,  if  you  please." 
"  Bah !  "  cried  Simard ;  "  better  have  absinth." 
Then  he  cursed  the  waiter  for  his  slowness.    When 
the  absinth  came  he  grasped  the  half-full   glass   and 
swallowed  the  liquid  raw,  a  thing  I  had  never  seen  done 
before.     Into  the  next  measure  of  the  wormwood  he 
poured  the  water  impetuously  from  the  carafe,  another 

86 


In  the  Grip  of  the  Green  Demon 


thing  I  had  never  seen  clone  before,  and  dropped  two 
Kimps  of  sugar  into  it.  Over  the  »hird  glass  he  placed 
a  flat  perforated  plated  spoon,  piled  the  sugar  on  this 
bridge,  and  now  quite  expertly  allowed  the  water  to  drip 
through,  the  proper  way  of  concocting  this  seductive 
mixture.  Finishing  his  second  glass,  he  placed  the  per- 
forated spoon  over  the  fourth,  and  began  now  more 
calmly  sipping  the  third,  while  the  water  dripped  slowly 
into  the  last  glass. 

Here   before   my   eyes   was   enacted   a   more   won- 
derful   change    than    the    gradual    transformation    of 
transparent  absinth  into  an  opaque  opalescent  liquid.    Si- 
mard,  under  the  influence  of  the  drink,  was  slowly  be- 
coming the  Simard  I  had  known  ten  years  before.    Re- 
markable !    Absinth,  having  in  earlier  years  made  a  beast 
of  the  man,  was  now  forming  a  man  out  of  the  beast. 
His  staring  eyes  took  on  an  expression  of  human  c«.. 
radeship.    The  whole  mystery  became  perfectly  clear  to 
me  without  a  question  asked  or  an  answer  uttered.    This 
man  was  no  spy,  but  a  genuine  anarchist.     However  it 
happened,  he  had  become  a  victim  of  absinth,  one  of 
many  with  whom  I  was  acquainted,  although  I  never 
met  any  so  far  sunk  as  he.     He  was  into  his  fourth 
glass,  and  had  ordered  two  more,  when  he  began  to 
speak. 

"  Here's  to  us !  "  he  cried,  with  something  like  a  ci-  Ii- 
ized  smile  on  his  gaunt  face.  "  You're  not  olTended  at 
what  I  said  in  the  meeting,  I  hope?" 

"  Oh,  no,"  I  answered. 

"That's  right.     You  see,  I  once  belonged  to  the 

87 


s 

r-n 
■H 

I 

3 


lev 


The  Triumphs  of  Eugene  t^almont 


Secret  Service,  and  if  my  chief  was  thcie  to-day,  wi- 
would  soon  find  ourselves  in  a  cool  dungeon.  Wo 
ouldn't  trip  up  Eugene  Valmont." 

At  these  words,  spoken  with  sincerity,  I  sat  up  in 
my  chair,  and  I  am  sure  such  an  expression  of  enjoy- 
ment came  into  my  face  that,  if  I  had  not  instantly  sup- 
pressed it,  I  might  have  betrayed  myself 

'■  Who  was  EugL-ne  Valmont?  "  I  asked,  in  a  tone  of 
assumed  indifference. 

Mixing  his  fifth  glass  he  nodded  sagely. 

"You  wouldn't  ask  that  question  if  you'd  been  in 
Paris  a  dozen  years  ago.  He  was  the  Government's 
chief  detective,  and  he  knew  nore  of  anarchists,  yes,  and 
of  Apa-hes,  too,  than  either  you  or  I  do.  He  had  more 
brains  in  his  little  finger  than  that  whole  lot  babbling 
there  to-night.  But  the  Government,  being  a  fool,  as  all 
governments  are,  dismissed  him,  and  because  I  was  his 


°y  got  rid  of 


assistant,  they  dismissed  me  as  well 
all  his  staff.  Valmont  disappeared.  HI  could  have 
found  him,  I  wouldn't  be  sitting  here  with  you  to-night . 
but  he  was  right  to  disappear.  The  Governmtnt  did 
all  they  could  against  us  who  had  beer,  his  friend;-,  and 
I  for  one  came  through  starvation,  and  was  near  th  row- 
ing myself  in  the  Seine,  which  sometimes  I  wish  1  had 
done.  Here,  gargon,  another  absinth!  But  by  and  by 
I  came  to  like  the  gutter,  and  here  I  am.  I'd  rather  have 
the  gutter  and  absinth  than  the  Luxembourg  without 
it.  I've  had  my  revenge  on  the  Government  many  times 
since,  for  I  knew  their  ways,  and  often  have  I  circum- 
vented the  police.    That's  why  they  respect  me  among 

8S 


In  the  Grip  of  the  Green  De 


mon 


the  anarchiits.  Do  you  know  how  I  joined?  I  kia.v 
all  their  pass\  crds,  and  walked  right  into  one  of  their 
meetings,  alone  and  in  rags. 

" '  Here  am  I,'  I  siid ;  '  Adolph  Simard.  late  second 
assistant  to  Eugene  Valmont,  chief  detective  to  the 
French  Government.' 

"  There  were  twenty  weapons  covering  me  at  once, 
but  I  laughed. 

'"I'm  starving,'  I  cried,  'and  I  want  something  to 
eat  and  more  especially  something  to  drink !  In  return 
for  that  I'll  show  you  every  rat  hole  /ou've  got.  Lift 
the  president's  chair,  and  there's  a  trapdoor  that  leads 
to  the  Rue  Blanc.  I'm  one  of  you,  and  I'll  tell  you  the 
tricks  of  the  police.' 

"  Such  was  my  initiation,  and  from  that  moment  the 
pciice  began  to  pick  their  spies  out  of  the  Seine,  and  now 
they  leave  us  alone.  Even  Valmont  himself  could  do 
nothing  against  the  anarchists  since  I  have  joined  them." 
Oh,  the  incredible  self-conceit  of  human  nature! 
Here  was  this  ruffian  proclaiming  the  limitations  of  Val- 
mont, who  half  an  hour  before  had  shaken  his  hand 
within  the  innermost  circle  Oi  his  order !  Yet  my  heart 
warmed  toward  the  wretch  whj  had  remembered  me  and 
my  exploits. 

It  now  became  my  anxious  and  difficult  task  to  lure 
Simard  av  ly  from  tnis  cafe  and  its  absinth.  Glass 
after  glass  of  the  noison  had  brought  him  up  almost  to 
his  former  intelleciual  level,  but  now  it  was  shoving  him 
rapidly  down  the  hill  again.  I  murt  know  where  his 
room  was  situated,  yet  if  I  waited  much  longer  the  man 
7  89 


r-n 
■H 
<D 


••0 

05 


:^ 


T\e  Triumphs  of  Eugene  Valmont 


would  be  in  a  state  of  drunken  imbecility  which  would 
not  only  render  it  impossible  for  him  to  guide  me  to 
his  room,  but  likely  cause  both  of  us  to  be  arrested  by 
the  police.  I  tried  persuasion,  and  he  laughed  at  mc; 
I  tried  threats,  whereat  he  scowled  and  cursed  me  as  a 
renegade  from  England.  At  last  the  liquor  overpowered 
him,  and  his  head  sank  on  the  metal  table  and  the  dark 
blue  cap  fell  to  the  floor. 


\* 


90 


CHAPTER  VIII 


I 


"IE   FAIK  OF   THE    VHUW   noMH 

V/AS  in  (Ii'spair,  but  now  n-ceivcd  a  lesson 
which  taught  me  that  if  a  man  leaves  a 
city,  even  for  a  short  time,  he  falls  out  of 
touch  with  its  ways.     I  called  the  waiter, 
and  said  to  him  : 
"  Do  you  know  my  friend  here  ?  " 
y    do   not   know    his    name."    repliod    the   garco,,, 
but  1  have  seen  him  .many  times  at  this  cafi'     He  is 
usually  in  this  state  when  he  has  mone"." 

•  Do  you  know  where  he  lives?       Te  promised  to 
take  me  with  him,  and  I  am  a  stranger   ..  Paris." 

"Have  no  discontent,  monsieur.     Rest  tranquil-  I 
will  mtervene."  ' 

With  this  he  stepped  across  the  paven.ent  in  front 
of  the  cafe,  mto  the  street,  and  gave  utterance  to  a  low 
peculiar  whistle.  The  cafe  was  now  nearly  deserted.' 
for  the  hour  was  very  late,  or,  rather,  very  earlv  When 
the  waiter  returned  I  whispered  to  him  in  some  anxiety: 
Not  the  police,  surely?" 

"But  no!"  he  cried  in  scorn;  "certainly  not  the 
police. 

He  went  on  unconcernedly  trying  in  the  empty  chairs 
and  tables.  A  few  minutes  later  there  swaggered  up  to 
the  cafe  two  of  the  most  disreputable,  low-browed  scoun- 

91 


9 


The  Triumphs  of  Eugene  Valmont 


% 


drels  I  had  ever  seen,  each  wearing  a  dark  blue  cap, 
with  a  glazed  peak  over  the  eyes,  caps  exactly  similar 
to  the  one  which  lay  in  front  of  Simard.  The  band 
of  Apaches  which  now  permeates  all  Paris  has  risen 
since  my  time,  and  Simard  had  been  mistaken  an  hour 
before  in  asserting  that  Valmont  was  familiar  with  their 
haunts.  The  present  Chief  of  Police  in  Paris  and  some 
of  his  predecessors  confess  there  is  a  difficulty  in  dealing 
with  these  picked  assassins,  but  I  should  very  much  like 
to  take  a  hand  in  the  game  on  the  side  of  law  and  order. 
However,  that  is  not  to  be;  therefore  the  Apaches  in- 
crease and  prosper. 

The  two  vagabonds  roughly  smote  Simard's  cap  on 
his  prone  head,  and  as  roughly  raised  him  to  his  feet. 

"  He  is  a  friend  of  mine,"  I  interposed,  "  and  prom- 
ised to  take  me  home  with  him." 

"  Good !  Follow  us,"  said  one  of  them ;  and  now  I 
passed  through  the  morning  streets  of  Paris  behind  three 
cutthroats,  yet  knew  that  I  was  safer  than  if  broad  day- 
light was  in  the  thoroughfare,  with  a  meridian  sun  shin- 
ing down  upon  us.  I  was  doubly  safe,  being  in  no  fear 
of  harm  from  midnight  prowlers,  and  equally  free  from 
danger  of  arrest  by  the  police.  Every  officer  we  met 
avoided  us,  and  casually  stepped  to  the  other  side  of  the 
street.  We  turned  down  a  narrow  lane,  then  through 
a  still  narrower  one,  which  terminated  at  a  courtyard. 
Entering  a  tall  building,  we  climbed  up  five  flights  of 
stairs  to  a  landing,  where  one  of  the  scouts  kicked  open  a 
door,  into  a  room  so  miserable  that  there  was  not  even 
a  lock  to  protect  its  poverty.    Here  they  allowed  the  in- 

92 


■'X':-  '^.^-fii^':.fi%5i«Mrte?M:' '-•■: 


The  Fate  of  the  Picric  Bomb 


sensible  Simard  to  drop  with  a  crash  on  the  floor,  and 
thus  they  left  us  alone  without  even  an  adieu.  The 
Apaches  take  care  of  their  own— after  a  fashion. 

I  struck  a  match,  and  found  part  of  a  bougie  stuck 
in  the  mouth  of  an  absinth  bottle,  resting  on  a  rough 
deal  table.     Lighting  the  bougie,   I  surveyed  the  hor- 
rible apartment.    A  heap  of  rags  lay  in  a  corner,  and  this 
was  evidently  Simard's  bed.     I  hauled  him  to  it,  and 
there  he  lay  unconscious,  himself  a  bundle  of  rags.     I 
found  one  chair,  or,  rather,  stool,  for  it  had  no  back. 
I  drew  the  table  against  the  lockless  door,  blew  out  the 
light,  sat  on  the  stool,  resting  my  arms  on  the  table,  and 
my  head  on  my  arms,  and  slept  peacefully  till  long  after 
daybreak. 

Simard  awoke  in  the  worst  possible  humor.  He 
poured  forth  a  great  variety  of  abusive  epithets  at  me 
To  make  himself  still  more  agreeable,  he  turned  back 
the  rags  on  which  he  had  slept,  and  brought  to  the  light 
a  round  black  object,  like  a  small  cannon  ball,  which  he 
informed  me  was  the  picric  bomb  that  was  to  scatter 
destruction  among  my  English  friends,  for  whom  he 
expressed  the  greatest  possible  loathing  and  contempt. 
Then  sitting  up,  he  began  playing  with  this  infernal 
machine,  knowing,  as  well  as  I,  that  if  he  allowed  it  to 
drop  that  was  the  end  of  us  two. 

I  shrugged  my  shoulders  at  this  displav,  and  af- 
fected a  nonchalance  I  was  far  from  feeling,' but  finally 
put  an  end  to  his  dangerous  amusement  by  telling  him 
that  if  he  came  out  with  me  I  would  pay  for  his  break- 
fast, and  give  him  a  drink  of  absinth. 

93 


<- 

"mm 

3 


The  Triumphs  of  Eugene  Valmont 


The  next  few  days  were  the  most  anxious  of  my  life. 
Never  before  had  I  hved  on  terms  of  intimacy  with  a 
picric  bomb,  that  most  deadly  and  uncertain  of  all  ex- 
plosive agencies.     I  speedily  found  that  Simard  was  so 
absinth-soaked  I  could  do  nothing  with  him.     He  could 
not  be  bribed  or  cajoled  or  persuaded  or  threatened. 
Once,  indeed,  when  he  talked  with  drunken  aflfection  of 
Eugene  V'almont,  I  conceived  a  wild  notion  of  declaring 
myself  to  him;  but  a  moment's  reflection  showed  the 
absolute  uselessness  of  this   course.     It  was   not  one 
Simard  with  whom  I  had  to  deal,  but  half  a  dozen  or 
more.     There  was   Simard   sober,  half  sober,  quarter 
sober,  drunk,  half  drunk,  quarter  drunk,  or  wholly  drunk. 
Any  bargain  I  might  make  with  the  one  Simard  would 
not  be  kept  by  any  of  the  other  six.    The  only  safe  Si- 
mard  was   Simard   insensible   through   overindulgence. 
I  had  resolved  to  get  Simard  insensibly  drunk  on  the 
morning  of  the  procession,  but  my  plans  were  upset  at  a 
meeting  of  the  anarchists,  which  luckily  took  place  on 
an  evening  shortly  after  my  arrival,  and  this  gave  me 
time   to  mature   the   plan   which   was   actually   carried 
out.    Each  member  of  the  anarchists'  club  knew  of  Si- 
mard's   slavery   to   absinth,   and   fears   were   expressed 
that  he  might  prove  incapable  on  the  day  of  the  pro- 
cession, too  late  for  a  substitute  to  take  his  place.     It 
was  therefore  proposed  that  one  or  two  others  should 
be   stationed  along  the   route   of  the   procession   with 
bombs  ready  if  Simard  failed.     This  I  strenuously  op- 
posed, and  guaranteed  that  Simard  would  be  ready  to 
launch  his  missile.     I  met  with  little  difficulty  in  per- 

94 


,.^*^«i^  -^'iss  jr- 


The  Fate  of  the  Picric  Bomb 


suading  the  company  to  agree,  because,  after  all,  every 
man  among  them  feared  he  might  be  one  of  tliose 
selected,  which  choice  was  practically  a  sentence  of 
death.  I  guaranteed  that  the  bomb  would  be  thrown, 
and  this  apparently  was  taken  to  mean  that  if  Simard 
did  not  do  the  deed,  I  would. 

This  danger  over,  I  next  took  the  measurements,  and 
estimated  the  weight,  of  the  picric  bomb.    I  then  sought 
out  a  most  amiable  and  expert  pyrotechnist,  a  capable 
workman  of  genius,  who  with  his  own  hand  makes  those 
dramatic  firework  arrangements  which  you  sometimes 
see  in  Paris.     As  Eugene  Valmont,  I  had  rendered  a 
great  service  to  this  man,  and  he  was  not  likely  to  have 
forgotten  it.    During  one  of  the  anarchist  scares  a  stu- 
pid policeman  had  arrested  him,  and  when  I  intervened 
the  man  was  just  on  the  verge  of  being  committed  for 
life.     France  trembled  in  one  of  her  panics,  or,  rather, 
Paris  did,  and  demanded  victims.    This  blameless  little 
workman  had  indeed  contributed  with  both  material  and 
advice,  but  any  fool  might  have  seen  that  he  had  done 
this  innocently.     His  assistance  had  been  invoked  and 
secured  under  the  pretense  that  his  clients  were  promot- 
ing an  amateur  firework  display,  which  was  true  enough 
but  the  display  cost  the  lives  of  three  men,  and  intention- 
ally so.    I  cheered  up  the  citizen  in  the  moment  of  his 
utmost  despair,  and  brought  such  proof  of  his  inno- 
cence to  the  knowledge  of  those  above  me  that  he  was 
most  reluctantly  acquitted.     To  this  man  I  now  went 
with  my  measurement  of  the  bomb,  and  the  estimate  of 
its  weight. 

95 


'•W^'m 


The  Triumphs  of  Eugene  Falmont 


"  Sir."  said  I,  "  do  you  remember  Eugene  Valmont'  " 
Am  I  ever  likely  to  forget  him? "  he  replied,  with 
a  fervor  that  pleased  me. 

"  He  has  sent  me  to  you,  and  implores  vou  to  aid 
me.  and  that  aid  will  wipe  out  the  debt  you  owe  him  " 

'•  W.llmgly.  willingly."  cried  the  artisan,  "so  lon^ 
of  bombs" ''^'"^  '°  "^^  ^''^  '^^  anarchists  or  the  making 

"  It  has  to  do  exactly  with  those  two  things.  I  wish 
you  to  make  an  innocent  bomb  which  will  prevent  an 
anarchist  outrage." 

At  this  the  little  man  drew  back,  and  his  face  became 
pale. 

;  It  is  impossible,"  he  protested;  "  I  have  had  enough 
of  mnocent  bombs.  No.  no,  and  in  any  case  how  can 
1  be  sure  you  come  from  Eugene  Valmont?  No  mon- 
sieur, I  am  not  to  be  trapped  the  second  time  " 

At  this  I  related  rapidly  all  that  Valmont  had  done 
for  hmi,  and  even  repeated  Valmonfs  most  intimate  con- 
versation with  him.  The  man  was  nonplused,  but  re- 
mamed  firm. 

"  I  dare  not  do  it,"  he  said. 

We  were  alone  in  his  back  shop.     I  walked  to  the 
doer  and  thrust  in  the  bolt ;  then,  after  a  moment's  pause 
turned  round    stretched  forth  my  right  hand  dramatic- 
ally,  and  cried : 

"  Behold  Eugene  Valmont !  " 

My  friend  staggered  against  the  wall  in  his  amaze- 
nent,  and  I  continued  in  solemn  tones  : 

"  Eugene  Valmont,  who  by  this  removal  of  his  dis- 

96 


.r^Ui'^^ 


The  Fate  of  the  Picric  Bomb 


guise  places  his  life  in  join  hands  as  your  life  was  in 
his.    Now,  monsieur,  what  will  you  do  ?  " 

He  replied: 

"  Monsieur  Valmont,  I  shall  do  whatever  you  ask. 
If  I  refused  a  moment  ago,  it  was  because  I  thought 
there  was  now  in  France  no  Eugene  Valmont  to  rectify 
my  mistake  if  I  make  one." 

I  resumed  my  disguise,  and  told  him  I  wished  an 
innocent  substitute  for  this  picric  bomb,  and  he  at  once 
suggested  an  earthenware  globe,  which  would  weigh  the 
same  as  the  bomb,  and  which  could  be  colored  to  resem- 
ble it  exactly. 

"  \nd  now.  Monsieur  Valmont,  do  you  wish  smoke 
to  issue  from  this  imitation  bomb  ?  " 

"  Yes,"  I  said,  "  in  such  quantity  as  you  can  com- 
press within  it." 

"  It  is  easily  done !  "  he  cried,  with  the  enthusiasm 
of  a  true  French  artist.  "  And  may  I  place  within  some 
little  design  of  my  own  which  will  astonish  your  fri  ids 
the  English,  and  delight  my  friends  the  French  ?  " 

"  Monsieur,"  said  I,  "  I  am  in  your  hands.  I  trust 
the  project  entirely  to  your  skill."  And  thus  it  came 
about  that  four  days  later  I  substituted  the  bogus  globe 
for  the  real  one,  and,  unseen,  dropped  the  picric  bomb 
from  one  of  the  bridges  into  the  Seine. 

On  the  morning  of  the  procession  I  was  compelled 
to  allow  Simard  several  drinks  of  absinth  to  bring  him 
up  to  a  point  where  he  could  be  depended  on,  otherwise 
his  anxiety  and  determination  to  fling  the  bomb,  his 
frenzy  against  all  government,  made  it  certain  that  he 

97 


i 


The  Triumphs  of  Eugene  Valmont 

would  betray  both  of  us  before  the  fateful  moment  came. 
My  only  fear  was  that  I  could  not  stop  him  drinking 
when  once  he  began,  but  somehow  our  days  of  close 
companionship,  loathsome  as  they  were  to  me,  seemed 
to  have  had  the  ffect  of  building  up  again  the  influence 
I  held  over  him  in  former  days,  and  his  yielding  more 
or  less  to  my  wishes  appeared  to  be  quite  unconscious 
on  his  part. 

The  procession  was  inposcd  entirei '  of  carriages, 
each  containing  four  persons — two  Englishmen  sat  on 
the  back  seats,  with  two  Frenchmen  in  front  of  them. 
A  thick  crowd  lined  each  side  of  the  thoroughfare, 
cheering  vociferously.  Right  into  the  middle  of  the  pro- 
cession Simard  launched  his  bomb.  There  was  nr  crash 
of  explosion.  The  missile  sin. ply  went  to  pieces  as  if 
it  were  an  earthenware  jar,  and  there  arose  a  dense  col- 
umn of  very  white  smoke.  In  the  immediate  vicinity  the 
cheering  stopped  at  once,  and  the  sinister  word  "  bomb  " 
passed  from  lip  to  lip  in  awed  whispers.  As  the  throw- 
ing had  been  unnoticed  in  the  midst  of  the  commotion, 
I  held  Simard  firmly  by  the  wrist,  determined  he  should 
not  draw  attention  to  himself  by  his  panic-stricken 
desire  for  immediate  flight. 

"Stand  still,  you  fool!"  1  hissed  into  his  ear,  and 
he  obeyed,  tienibling. 

The  p-  r  of  horses  in  front  of  which  the  bomb  fell 
rose  for  a  moment  on  their  hind  legs,  and  showed  signs 
of  bolting,  but  the  coachman  held  them  firmly,  and  up- 
lifted his  hand  so  that  the  procession  behind  him  came 
to  a  momentary  pause.    No  one  in  the  carriages  moved 

98 


The  Fate  of  the  Picric  Bomb 


a  muscle,  then  suddenly  the  tension  was  broken  by  a 
great  and  simultaneous  cheer.  Wondering  at  this,  I 
turned  my  eyes  from  the  frightened  horses  to  the  col- 
umn of  pale  smoke  in  front  of  us,  and  saw  that  in  some 
manner  it  had  resolved  itself  into  a  gigantic  calla  lily, 
pure  white,  while  from  the  base  of  this  sprang  the  lilies 
of  France,  delicately  tinted.  Of  course,  this  could  not 
have  happened  if  there  had  been  the  least  wind,  but  the 
air  was  so  still  that  the  vibration  of  the  cheering  caused 
the  huge  lily  to  tremble  gently  as  if  stood  there  mar- 
velously  poised;  the  lily  of  peace,  surrounded  by  the 
lilies  of  France !  That  was  thv.  design,  and  if  you  ask  me 
how  it  was  done,  I  can  only  refer  you  to  my  pyrotechnist, 
and  say  that  whatever  a  Frenchman  attempts  to  do  he 
will  accomplish  artistically. 

And  now  these  imperturbable  English,  who  had  been 
seated,  immobile,  when  they  thought  a  bomb  was  thrown, 
stood  up  in  their  carriages  to  get  a  better  view  of  this 
aerial  phenomenon,  cheering  and  waving  their  hats. 
The  lily  gradually  thinned,  and  dissolved  in  little  patches 
of  cloud  that  floated  away  above  our  heads. 

"  I  cannot  stay  here  longer,"  groaned  Simard,  quak- 
ing, his  nerves,  like  himself,  in  rags.  "  I  see  the  ghosts 
of  those  I  have  killed  floating  around  me." 

"  Come  on,  then,  but  do  not  hurry." 

There  was  no  difficulty  in  getting  him  to  London, 
but  it  was  absinth,  absinth,  all  the  way,  a.id  when  we 
reached  Charing  Cross  I  was  compelled  to  help  him, 
partly  insensible,  into  a  cab.  I  took  him  direct  to  the  Im- 
perial Flats,  and  up  into  my  own  set  of  chambers,  where 

99 


12 

12 

•H 
<D 
IZ 

c 

I 

<:/5 

"MM 

-< 


The  Triumphs  of  Euf^cnc  Fa/moni 


^1 


I  ofwncd  my  strong  rcwjiij.  and  niing  hjtn  inside  to  sleep 
off  his  intoxication,  and  subsist  on  bread  and  water  when 
he  became  sober. 

I  attended  tliat  night  a  meeting  of  the  anarchists,  and 
detailed  accurately  the  story  of  our  escape  from  I-rance. 
I  knew  we  had  been  watclicd.  and  so  skipped  no  detail. 
I  reported  that  I  had  taken  Simard  directly  to  my  com- 
patriot's Hat ;  to  Kugene  \almont,  the  man  w.'io  had  giveji 
IPC  employment,  and  who  had  promised  to  do  what  he 
could  for  Simard.  l)eginning  by  trying  to  break  him  of 
the  absinth  habit,  as  he  was  now  a  physical  wreck 
through  overindulgence  in  that  stinudant. 

It  was  curious  to  note  the  di.scussion   which  took 
place  a  few  nights  afterwards  regarding  the  failure  of 
the  picric  Ixmib.    Scientists  among  us  said  that  the  bomb 
had  been  male  too  long;  that  a  chemical  reaction  had 
taken  place  which  destroyed  its  power.     A  few  sui)er- 
stitious  ones  saw  a  miracle  in  what  had  happened,  an.l 
they  forthwith  left  our  organization.    Then  again,  things 
were  made  easier  by  the  fact  that  the  man  who  con 
structed  the  Ijomb.  evidently  terror-stricken  at  what  hv 
had  done,  disappeared   the   day  before  the  procession, 
and  has  never  since  been  heard  of.    The  majority  of  the 
anarch'  cs  believed  he  had  made  a  bogus  bomb,  and  had 
fled  to  escape  their  vengeance  rather  than  to  evade  the 
justice  of  the  law. 

Simard  will  need  no  purgatory  in  the  next  world. 
I  kept  him  on  bread  and  water  for  a  month  in  my  stronj^ 
room,  and  at  first  he  demanded  absinth  with  threats, 
then  groveled,  begging  and  praying  for  it.     After  that 

loo 


The  Fate  of  the  Picr'n    liomh 


a  pcruxl  of  (kprtssion  and  dt-spair  iiiMicd.  Ijiit  liiially  Ins 
naturally  strong  constitutitJii  c(.n(|Mcri(l,  and  lK-j{an  to 
build  itself  up  ajja  ..  I  t(M)k  liini  from  his  prison  one 
midnight,  and  ^:ivc  him  a  In'd  in  my  Solio  uxmi,  taking 
care  in  bringinj,'  him  away  that  he  would  never  recoj,Miizc 
the  place  where  he  had  been  incarcerate<l.  In  my  deal- 
ings with  him  I  had  alway:.  l)een  that  old  man,  Paul 
Ducharme.    Next  morninf^  I  said  to  him: 

"  You  spoke  of  Kunent-  Valmrmt.  I  have  learned 
that  he  lives  in  Lmuun,  and  I  advise  you  to  call  ui)on 
him.     Perhajjs  he  can  pet  you  somethinj,'  to  do." 

Simard  was  overjoyed,  and  two  hours  later,  as  Eu- 
},a-nc  Valmont,  I  received  him  in  my  flat,  and  made  him 
my  assistant  on  the  sjxjt.  From  that  time  forward,  Paul 
Ducharme.  lanj^'napc  teacher,  (lisapjwared  from  the 
earth,  and  Simard  abandoned  his  two  A's— anarchy  and 
absinth. 


i 


CHAPTER   IX 


THE  DINNER   TOR  SKVKN    IN    T|||;  TEMPLE 

HEN  tlic  card  was  brought  in  to  me,  I 
lookc(l  upon  it  with  some  misj^nving,  for 
I  scented  a  commercial  transaction,  and. 
ahhough  such  cases  are  hicrative  enough, 
nevertheless  I.  Eugene  \'aImont.  formerly 
high  in  the  service  of  the  French  (Government,  do  not 
care  to  be  connected  with  them.  They  usually  pertain 
to  sordid  business  affairs,  presenting  little  that  is  of 
interest  to  a  man  who.  in  his  time,  has  dealt  with  subtle 
questions  of  diplomacy  upon  which  the  welfare  of  na- 
tions sometimes  turned. 

The  name  of  Bentham  Gibbcs  is  familiar  to  everyone, 
connected   as   it   is    with    the   much-advertised   pickles.' 
whose   glaring  announcements    in   crude   crimson   and 
green    strike    the    eye    throughout    Great    Britain,    and 
shock  the  artistic  sense  wherever  seen.     Me!     I  have 
never  tasted  them,  and  shall  not  so  long  as  a  French 
restaurant  remains  open  in  London.     But  I  doubt  not 
they  are  as  pronounced  to  the  palate  as  their  advertise- 
ment is  distressing  to  the  eye.    If,  then,  this  gross  pickle 
manufacturer  exported  me  to  track  down  those  who 
were  mfringing  ui>on  the  recipes   for  making  his  so- 
called  sauces,  chutneys,  and  the  like,  he  ^vould  find  him- 

102 


The  Dinner  for  Seven  in  the  Temple 


self  mistaken,  for  I  was  now  in  a  fKisition  to  pick  and 
choose  my  cases,  and  a  case  of  pickles  did  not  allure 
me.  "  Beware  of  imitations,"  said  the  advertisement ; 
"  none  genuine  withciit  a  facsimile  of  the  nature  of 
Bcntham  Gibbcs."  Ah,  well,  not  for  mc  were  cither 
the  pickles  or  the  tracking  of  imitators.  A  forged  check ! 
yes,  if  you  like,  but  the  forged  signature  of  Mr.  Gibbes 
on  a  pickle  bottle  was  out  of  my  line.  Nevertheless, 
I  said  to  Armand : 

"  Show  the  gentleman  in,"  and  he  did  so. 

To  my  astonishment  there  entered  a  young  man, 
quite  correctly  dressed  in  the  dirk  frock  coat,  faultless 
waistcoat  and  trousers  that  proclaimed  a  Bond  Street 
tailor.  When  he  spoke  nis  voice  and  language  were 
those  of  a  gentleman. 

"  Monsieur  Valmont  ?  "  he  mqui-ed. 

"At  your  service,"  I  rc;)lied,  bo-ving  and  waving 
my  hand  as  Armand  placed  a  chair  ior  him,  and  with- 
drew. 

"I  am  a  barrister  with  chambers  in  the  Temple" 
began  Mr.  Gibbes,  "and  for  some  days  a  matter  has 
been  troubling  ,ne  about  which  I  have  now  come  to 
s«ek  your  advice,  your  name  having  been  suggested  by  a 
friend  in  whom  I  confided." 

"  Am  I  acquainted  with  him  ?  "  I  asked. 

"I  think  not,"  replied  Mr.  Gibbes;  "he  also  is  a 
barrister  with  chambers  in  the  same  building  as  my  own. 
Lionel  Dacre  is  his  name." 

"  I  never  heard  of  him." 

"Very   likely  not.     Nevertheless,   he   recommended 

103 


The  Triumphs  of  Eugene  Falmont 


you  as  a  man  who  could  keep  his  own  counsel,  and  if 
you  take  up  this  case  I  desire  the  utmost  secrecy  pre- 
served, whatever  may  be  the  outcome." 

I  bowed,  but  made  no  protestation.  Secrecy  is  a 
matter  of  course  with  me. 

The  Englishman  paused  for  a  few  moments  as  if  he 
expected  fervent  assurances ;  then  went  on  with  no  trace 
of  disappointment  on  his  countenance  at  not  receiving 
them. 

"On  the  night  of  the  twenty-third,  I  gave  a  Httle 
dinner  to  six  friends  of  mine  in  my  own  rooms.  I  may 
say  that  so  far  as  I  am  aware  they  are  all  gentlemen 
of  unimpeachable  character.  On  the  night  of  the  din- 
ner I  was  detained  later  than  I  expected  at  a  reception, 
and  in  driving  to  the  Temple  was  still  further  delayed 
by  a  block  of  traffic  in  Piccaoilly,  so  that  when  I  arrived 
at  my  chambers  there  was  barely  time  for  me  to  dress 
and  receive  my  guests.  My  man  Johnson  had  everything 
laid  out  ready  for  me  in  my  dressing  room,  and  as  I 
passed  through  to  it  I  hurriedly  flung  oflf  the  coat  I  was 
wearing  and  carelessly  left  it  hanging  over  the  back  of 
a  chair  in  the  dining  room,  where  neither  Johnson  nor 
myself  noticed  it  until  my  attention  was  called  to  it 
after  the  dinner  was  over,  and  everyone  rather  jolly  with 
wine. 

"  This  coat  contains  an  inside  pocket.  Usually  any 
frock  coat  I  wear  at  an  afternoon  reception  has  not  an 
inside  pocket,  but  I  had  been  rather  on  the  rush  all  day. 
My  father  is  a  manufacturer  whose  name  may  be  fa- 
miliar to  you.  and  I  am  on  the  directors'  board  of  his 

104 


The  Dinner  for  Seven  in  the  Temple 


compan).  On  this  occasion  I  took  a  cab  from  the  city 
to  the  reception  I  spoke  of,  and  had  no  time  to  go  and 
change  at  my  rooms.  The  reception  was  a  somewhat 
Bohemian  affair,  extremely  interesting,  of  course,  but 
not  too  particular  as  to  costume,  so  I  went  as  I  was  In 
this  inside  pocket  rested  a  thin  package,  composed  of 
two  pieces  of  cardboard,  and  between  them  rested  five 
twenty-pound  Bank  of  England  notes,  folded  lengthwise, 
held  in  place  by  an  elastic  rubber  band.  I  had  thrown 
the  coat  across  the  chair  back  in  such  a  way  that  the 
inside  pocket  was  exposed,  leaving  the  ends  of  the  notes 
plainly  recognii^able. 

"  Over  the  coflFee  and  cigars  one  of  my  guests  laugh- 
ingly called  attention  to  what  he  termed  my  vulgar  dis- 
play of  wealth,  and  Johnson,  in  some  confusion  at  having 
neglected  to  put  away  the  coat,  now  picked  it  up,  and 
took  It  to  the  reception  room  where  the  wraps  of  my 
guests  lay  about  promiscuously.     He  should,  of  course 
have  hung  it  up  in  my  wardrobe,  but  he  said  afterwards' 
he  thought  it  belonged  to  the  guest  who  had  spoken 
^ou  see,  Johnson  was  in  my  dressing  room  when  I  threw 
my  coat  on  the  chair  in  the  corner  while  making  my 
way  thither,  and  I  suppose  he  had  not  noticed  the  coat 
m  the  hurry  of  arriving  guests,  otherwise  he  would  have 
put  It  where  it  belonged.     After  everybody  had  gone 
Johnson  came  to  me  and  said  the  coat  was  there    but 
the  package  was  missing,  nor  has  any  trace  of  it  'been 
found  since  that  night." 

"The  dinner  was   fetched  in  from  outside,   I  sup- 
pose ? "  '  f 


Sis 


The  Triumphs  of  Eugene  Valmont 


"  Yes." 

"  How  many  waiters  served  it  ? " 

"  Two.  They  are  men  who  have  often  been  in  my 
employ  on  similar  occasions,  but,  apart  from  that,  they 
had  left  my  chambers  before  the  incident  of  the  coat  hap- 
pened." 

"  Neither  of  them  went  into  the  reception  room,  T 
take  it?" 

"  >Jo.    I  am  certain  that  not  even  suspicion  can  a 
tach  to  either  of  the  waiters." 

"  Your  man  Johnson ?  " 

"  Has  been  with  me  for  years.  He  cou.u  easily  have 
stolen  much  more  than  the  hundred  pounds  if  he  had 
wished  to  do  so,  but  I  have  never  known  him  to  take 
a  penny  that  did  not  belong  to  him." 

"  Will  you  favor  me  with  the  names  of  your  guests, 
Mr.  Gibbes  ?  " 

"  Viscount  Stern  sat  at  my  right  hand,  and  at  my 
left  Lord  Templemere ;  Sir  John  Sanclere  next  to  him. 
and  Angus  McKeller  next  to  Sanclere.  After  Viscount 
Stern  was  Lionel  Dacre,  and  at  his  right,  Vincent  Innis." 

On  a  sheet  of  paper  I  had  written  the  names  of  the 
guests,  and  noted  their  places  at  the  table. 

"  Which  guest  drew  your  attention  to  the  money  ? " 

"  Lionel  Dacre." 

"  Is  there  a  window  looking  out  from  the  reception 
room  ? " 

"  Two  of  them." 

"Were  they  fastened  on  the  night  of  the  dinner 


party 


io6 


I  The  Dinner  for  Seven  in  the  Temple 


know.  You  are  hinting  at  the  possibility  of  a  thief  com- 
ing in  through  a  reception-room  window  while  we  were 
somewhat  noisy  over  our  wine.  I  think  such  a  solu- 
t.on  highly  improbable.  My  rooms  are  on  the  third 
floor,  and  a  thief  would  scarcely  venture  to  n^ake  an 
entrance  when  he  could  not  but  know  there  was  com- 
pany being  entertained.  Besides  this,  the  coat  was  there 
Is  than  an  hour,  and  it  appears  to  me  that  whoever 
stole  those  notes  knew  where  they  were  " 

"  That  seems  reasonable,"  I  had  to  admit.     "  Have 
you  spoken  to  anyone  of  your  loss?  " 

"  To  no  one  but  Dacre,  who  recommended  me  to  see 
you.    Oh,  yes.  and  to  Johnson,  of  course  " 

fifth  TfT  """'^  "°''"^  ''"*  ''"^  ^^^  '^'^  ^°"^th  or 
fifth  tme  Dacre  s  name  had  come  up  during  our  con- 
versation.  ^ 

"What  of  Dacre?"  I  asked. 

"Oh,  well,  you  see,  he  occupies  chambers  in  the  same 
b«  d,ng  on  the  ground  floor.    He  is  a  very  good  fe  ,„w 
nd  we  are  by  way  of  bc.ng  firm  friends,    Ivn  i,  wis 
e  who  had  called  attention  to  the  money,  so  I  though 
he  should  know  the  sequel."  ^ 

"  How  did  he  take  your  news  ?  " 
"  Now  that  you  call  attention  to  the  fact,  he  seemed 
sl-ghtly  troubled.     I  should  like  to  sav.  however  That 
you  must  not  be  misled  by  that.    Lionel'  Dacre  could  no 
more  steal  than  he  could  lie." 
^^^•jDid  he  show  any  surprise  when  you  mentioned  the 


4 


107 


The  Triumphs  of  Eugene  Valmont 


:i 


Bentham  Gibbcs  paused  a  moment  before  replying, 
knitting  his  brows  in  thought. 

"  No,"  he  said  at  last ;  "  and,  come  to  think  of  it,  it 
appeared  as  if  he  had  been  expecting  my  announcement." 

"  Doesn't  that  strike  you  as  rather  strange,  Mr. 
Gibbes?" 

"  Really,  my  mind  is  in  such  a  whirl,  I  don't  know 
what  to  think.  But  it's  perfectly  absurd  to  suspect 
Dacre.  If  you  knew  the  man  you  would  understand 
what  I  mean.  lie  comes  of  an  excellent  family,  and  he 
is — oh!  he  is  Lionel  Dacre,  and  when  yc.  have  said  that 
you  have  made  any  suspicion  absurd." 

"  I  suppose  you  caused  the  rooms  to  be  thoroughlv 
searched.  The  packet  didn't  drop  out  and  remain  un- 
noticed in  some  corner  ?  " 

"  No ;  Johnson  and  myself  examined  every  inch  of 
the  premises." 

"  Have  you  the  numbers  of  the  notes  ?  " 

"  Yes ;  I  got  them  from  the  bank  next  morning. 
Payment  was  stopped,  and  so  far  not  one  of  the  five 
has  been  presented.  Of  course,  one  or  more  may  have 
been  cashed  at  seme  shop,  but  none  have  been  offered 
to  any  of  the  banks." 

"  A  twenty-pound  note  is  not  accepted  without  scru- 
tiny, so  the  chances  are  the  thief  may  find  some  diflfictilty 
in  disposing  of  them." 

"  As  I  told  you,  I  don't  mind  the  loss  of  the  money 
at  all.  It  is  the  uncertainty,  the  uneasiness  caused  by 
the  incident  which  troubles  me.  You  will  comprehend 
how  little  T  care  about  the  notes  when  I  say  that  if  you  : 


io8 


I 


The  Dinner  for  Seven  in  the  Temple 


I 


are  good  enough  to  interest  yourself  in  this  case,  I  shall 
be  disappointed  if  your  fee  does  not  exceed  the  amount 
1  have  lost." 

Mr.  Gibbcs  rose  as  he  said  this,  and  I  accompanied 
him  to  the  door  assuring  him  that  I  should  dcj  my  best 
to  solve  the  mystery.  Whetlier  he  sprang  from  pickles 
or  not,  I  realized  he  was  a  polished  and  generous  gen- 
tleman, who  estimated  the  services  of  a  professional 
expert  like  myself  at  their  true  value. 

I  shall  not  set  down  the  details  of  my  researches  dur- 
ing the  following  few  days,  because  the  trend  of  them 
must  be  gone  over  in  the  account  of  that  remarkable 
interview  in  which  I  took  j)art  somewhat  later.     Suffice 
it  to  say  that  an  examination  of  the  rooms  and  a  close 
cross-questioning  of  Johnson  satisfied  me  he  and  the  two 
waiters  were  innocent.     I  became  certain  no  thief  had 
made  his   way   through   the   window,   and   finally   I  ar- 
rived at  the  conclusion  that  the  notes  were  stolen  by 
one  of  the  guests.     Further  investigation  convinced  me 
that  the  thief  was  no  other  than  Lionel  Dacre,  the  only 
one  o<"  the  six  in  pressing  need  of  money  at  this  time. 
I  caused  Dacre  to  b-  shadowed,  and  during  one  of  his 
absences  made  the  acquaintance  of  his  man  Hopper,  a 
surly,  impolite  brute,  who  accepted  my  golden  sovereign 
quickly  enough,  but  gave  me  little  in  exchange   for  it. 
While  I  conversed  with  him,  there  arrived  in  the  pas- 
sage where  we  were  talking  together  ?   huge  case  of 
champagne,  be;  ring  one  of  the  best  known  names  in  the 
trade,  and  branded  as  being  of  the  vintage  of  '78.    Now 
I  knew  that  the  product  of  Camelot  Freres  is  not  bou^'ht 

109 


'4 


i-«w2a  f^^  t 


3"WSSS 


•i. 

1-'. 


The  Triumphs  of  Eugene  Falmont 


as  cheaply  as  British  beer,  and  I  also  had  learned  that 
two  short  weeks  before  Mr.  Lionel  Dacre  was  at  his 
wits'  end  for  money.  Yet  he  was  still  the  same  briefless 
barrister  he  had  ever  been. 

On  the  morning  after  my  unsatisfactory  conversation 
with  his  man  Hopper,  I  was  astonished  to  receive  tlie 
following  note,  written  on  a  dainty  correspondence  card : 

3  AND  4,  Vellum  Buildings, 
Inner  Temple,  E.C. 
Mr.  Lionel  Dacre  presents  his  compliments  to  Monsieur  Eugene 
Valmont,  and  would  be  obliged  if  Monsieur  Valmont  could  make  it 
convenient  to  call  upon  him  in  his  chambers  to-morrow  mominL' 
at  eleven. 


IIO 


CHAPTER  X 


I 
.1 


57 

I 


THE   CLEW   OF   THE   SILVER   SPOONS 

IAD  the  young  man  become  aware  that  he 
was  being  shadowed,  or  had  the  surly 
servant  informed  him  of  the  inquiries 
made?  I  was  soon  to  know.  I  called 
punctually  at  eleven  next  morning,  and 
was  received  with  charming  urbanity  by  Mr.  Dacre  him- 
self. The  taciturn  Hopper  had  evidently  been  sent  away 
for  the  occasion. 

"  My  dear  Monsieur  Valmont,  I  am  delighted  to  meet 
you,"  began  the  young  man  with  more  of  effusiveness 
than  I  had  ever  noticed  in  an  Englishman  before,  al- 
though his  very  next  words  supplied  an  explanation  that 
did  not  occur  to  me  until  afterwards  as  somewhat  far- 
fetched. "  I  believe  we  are  by  way  of  being  country- 
men, and,  therefore,  although  the  hour  is  early,  I  hope 
you  will  allow  me  to  offer  you  some  of  this  bottled  sun- 
shine of  the  vear  '78  from  la  belle  France,  to  whose 
prosperity  and  honor  we  shall  drink  together.  For  such 
a  toast  any  hour  is  propitious,"  and  to  my  amazement 
he  brought  forth  from  the  case  I  had  seen  arrive  two 
days  before  a  bottle  of  that  superb  Camelot  Freres'  '78. 
"  Now,"  said  I  to  myself,  "  it  is  going  to  be  difficult 
tn  keep  a  clear  head  if  the  aroma  of  this  nectar  rises  to 

III 


!2 

ii 


-^ 


_   -Pi'V.T"—    , 


!■*■ 


■WP^P^ 


The  Triumphs  of  Eugene  Valmont 


the  brain.     But  tempting  as  is  the  cup,   I  shall  drink 
sparingly,  and  hope  he  may  not  be  so  judicious." 

Sensitive,  I  already  experienced  the  charm  of  his 
personality,  and  well  understood  the  friendship  Mr. 
Bentham  Gibbes  felt  for  him.  But  I  saw  the  trap  spread 
before  me.  He  expected,  under  the  influence  of  cham- 
pagne and  courtesy,  to  extract  a  promise  from  me 
which  I  must  find  myself  unable  to  give. 

"  Sir,  you  interest  me  by  claiming  kinship  with 
France.  I  had  understood  that  you  belonged  to  one 
of  the  oldest  families  of  England." 

"  Ah,  England !  "  he  cried,  with  an  expressive  gesture 
of  outspreading  hands  truly  Parisian  in  its  significance. 
"  The  trunk  belongs   to   England,   of  course,   but  the 
root— ah!  the  root— Mon^'Ieur  Valmont,  penetrated  the 
soil  from  which  this  wine  of  the  gods  has  been  drawn." 
Then  filling  my  glass  and  his  own  he  cried  : 
"  To  France,  which  my  family  left  in  the  year  1066!  ' 
I  could  not  help  laughing  at  his  fervent  ejaculation. 
"1066!     With  William  the  Conqueror!     That  is  a 
long  time  ago,  Mr.  Dacre." 

"  In  years  perhaps ;  in  feelings  but  a  day.  My  fore- 
fathers came  over  to  steal,  and,  Lord !  how  well  they  ac- 
complished it.  They  stole  the  whole  country— something 
like  a  theft,  say  I— under  that  prince  of  robbers  whom 
you  have  well  named  the  Conqueror.  In  our  secret 
hearts  we  all  admire  a  great  thief,  and  if  not  a  great 
one,  then  an  expert  one,  who  covers  his  tracks  so  per- 
fectly that  the  hounds  of  justice  are  baffled  in  attempt- 
ing to  follow  them.    Now  even  you,  Monsieur  Valmont 

112 


The  Clew  of  the  Silver  Spoons 


f 

i 


(I  can  see  you  arc  the  most  generous  of  men,  with  a 
lively  sympathy  found  to  perfection  only  in  France), 
even  you  must  suffer  a  pang  of  regret  when  you  lay 
a  thief  by  the  heels  who  has  done  his  task  deftly." 

"  I  fear.  Mr.  Dacrc,  you  credit  mc  with  a  magna- 
nimity to  which  I  dare  not  lay  claim.  The  criminal  is  a 
danger  to  society." 

"  True,  true,  you  are  in  the  right,  Monsieur  Valmont. 
Still,  admit  there  are  cases  that  would  touch  you  ten- 
derly. For  example,  a  man  ordinarily  honest ;  a  great 
need;  a  sudden  opportunity.  He  takes  that  of  which 
another  has  abundance,  and  he,  nothing.  What  then 
Monsieur  Valmont?  Is  the  man  to  be  sent  to  perditiori 
for  a  momentary  weakness  ?  " 

His  words  astonished  me.  Was  I  on  the  verge  of 
hearing  a  confession?  It  almost  amounted  to  that  al- 
ready. 

"  Mr.  Dacre,"  I  said,  "  I  cannot  enter  into  the  sub- 
tleties you  pursue.    My  duty  is  to  find  the  criminal." 

"  Again  I  say  you  are  in  the  right,  Monsieur  Val- 
mont, and  I  am  enchanted  to  find  so  sensible  a  head  on 
French  shoulders.  Although  you  are  a  more  recent 
arrival,  if  I  may  say  so,  than  myself,  you  nevertheless 
already  give  utterance  to  sentiments  which  do  honor  to 
England.  It  is  your  duty  to  hunt  down  the  criminal 
Very  well.  In  that  I  think  I  can  aid  you.  and  thus  have 
taken  the  liberty  of  requesting  your  attendance  here  this 
rnorning.  Let  me  fill  your  glass  again.  Monsieur 
V  almont." 

"  No  more,  I  beg  of  you,  Mr.  Dacre." 

113 


The  Triumphs  of  Eugene  Valmont 


% 


"  What,  do  you  think  the  receiver  is  as  bad  as  the 
thief?" 

I  was  so  taken  aback  by  this  remark  that  I  suppose 
my  face  showed  the  amazement  within  me.  But  the 
young  man  merely  laughed  with  apparently  free-hearted 
enjoyment,  poured  more  wine  into  his  own  glass,  and 
tossed  it  oflf.  Not  knowing  what  to  say,  I  changed  the 
current  of  conversation. 

"  Mr.  Gibbes  said  you  had  been  kind  enough  to 
recommend  me  to  his  attention.  May  I  ask  Itow  you 
came  to  hear  of  me  ? " 

"  Ah !  who  has  not  heard  of  the  renowned  Monsieur 
Valmont,"  and  as  he  said  this,  for  the  first  time  there 
began  to  grow  a  suspicion  in  my  mind  that  he  was  chaf- 
fing me,  as  it  is  called  in  England — a  procedure  which 
I  cannot  endure.  Indeed,  if  this  gentleman  practiced 
such  a  barbarism  in  my  own  country  he  would  find  him- 
self with  a  duel  on  his  hands  before  he  had  gone  far. 
However,  the  next  instant  his  voice  resumed  its  original 
fascination,  and  I  listened  to  it  as  to  some  delicious 
melody. 

"  I  need  only  mention  my  cousin,  Lady  Gladys  Dacre, 
and  you  will  at  once  understand  why  I  recommended 
you  to  my  friend.  The  case  of  Lady  Gladys,  you  will 
remember,  required  a  delicate  touch  which  is  not  al- 
ways to  be  had  in  this  land  of  England,  except  when 
those  who  possess  the  gift  do  us  the  honor  to  sojourn 
with  us." 

I  noticed  that  my  glass  was  again  filled,  and  bowing 
an  acknowledgment  of  his  compliment,  I   indulged  in 

114 


"^    -  Clew  of  the  Silver  Spoons 

another  sip  of  the  delicious  wine.  I  sighed,  for  I  began 
to  realize  it  wps  going  to  be  very  difficult  for  me.  in  spite 
of  my  disclaimer,  to  tell  this  man's  friend  he  had  stolen 
the  money.  All  this  time  he  ha<l  been  sitting  on  the 
edge  of  the  table,  while  I  occupied  a  chair  at  its  end. 
He  sat  there  in  careless  fashion,  swinging  a  foot  to  and 
fro.  Now  he  sprang  to  the  floor,  and  drew  up  a  chair, 
placing  on  the  table  a  blank  sheet  of  paper.  Then  he 
took  from  the  mantelshelf  i  packet  of  letters,  and  I 
was  astonished  to  see  they  were  held  together  by  two 
bits  of  cardboard  and  a  rubber  band  similar  to  the  com- 
bination that  had  contained  the  folded  bank  notes.  With 
great  nonchalance  he  slipped  off  the  rubber  band,  threw 
it  and  the  pieces  of  cardboard  on  the  table  before  me, 
leaving  the  documents  loose  to  his  hand. 

"  Now,  Monsieur  X'almont,"  he  cried  jauntily,  "  you 
have  been  occupied  far  several  days  on  this  case,  the  case 
of  my  dear  friend  Bentham  Gibbes,  who  is  one  of  the 
best  fellows  in  the  world." 

"  He  said  the  same  of  you,  Mr.  Dacre." 

"  I  am  gratified  to  hear  it.  Would  you  mind  letting 
me  know  to  what  point  your  researches  have  led  you  ? " 

"  They  have  led  me  in  a  direction  rather  than  to  a 
point." 

"Ah!    In  the  direction  of  a  man,  of  course?" 

"  Certainly." 

"Who  is  he?" 

"Will  you  pardon  me  if  I  decline  to  answer  this 
question  at  the  present  moment  ? " 

"  That  means  you  are  not  sure." 

115 


The  Triumphs  of  Eugene  Falmont 


% 


"  It  may  tm-an.  Mr.  Dacrc,  that  I  am  employed  by 
Mr.  (;ibt)cs.  and  do  not  fed  at  liberty  to  disclose  the 
result.s  of  my  quest  withtntt  his  permission." 

"  lUjt  Mr.  IJentham  (libbes  an<I  I  are  entirely  at  one 
in  this  matter.  Perhaps  you  arc  aware  that  I  am  the 
only  f)erson  with  whom  he  has  discussed  the  case  besides 
yourself." 

"That  is  undoubtedly  true.  Mr.  Dacre ;  still,  you  sec 
the  difficulty  of  my  |K)sition." 

"  Yes,  1  do,  and  .so  shall  press  you  no  farther.  But 
I  also  have  been  studying  the  problem  in  a  purely  ama- 
teurish way.  of  course.  You  will  perhaps  express  no  dis- 
inclination to  learn  whether  or  not  my  deductions  agree 
with  yours." 

"  None  in  the  least.  I  should  be  very  glad  to  know 
the  conclusion  at  which  vom  b-'ve  arrived.  May  I  ask 
if  you  suspect  anyone  in  particular.'  " 

"  Yes,  I  do." 

"  Will  you  name  him  ?  " 

"  No;  I  shall  copy  the  admirable  reticence  you  your- 
self have  shown.  And  now  let  us  attack  this  mystery 
in  a  sane  and  businesslike  manner.  You  have  already 
examined  the  room.  Well,  here  is  a  rough  sketch  of  it. 
There  is  the  table;  in  this  corner  stood  the  chair  on 
which  the  coat  was  flung.  Here  sat  Gibbes  at  the  head 
of  the  table.  Those  on  the  left-hand  side  had  their 
backs  to  the  chair.  I,  being  on  the  center  to  the  right, 
saw  the  chair,  the  coat,  and  the  notes  and  called  attention 
to  them.  Now  our  first  duty  is  to  find  a  motive.  If 
it  were  a  murder  our  motive  might  be  hatred,  revenge, 

n6 


The  Cleiv  of  the  Silver  Spoons 


robbery— what  you  like.  As  it  is  simply  the  steahng 
of  money,  the  man  must  have  been  eillicr  a  born  thief 
or  else  some  hitherto  innocent  person  pressed  to  the 
crime  by  great  necessity.  Do  you  agree  with  me,  Mon- 
sieur Valmont? " 

"  Perfectly.     Vou  follow  exactly  the  line  of  my  own 
reasoning." 

"  V^ery  well.  It  is  unlikely  that  a  born  thief  was  one 
of  Mr.  (libbes's  guests.  Therefore  we  are  reduced  to 
look  for  a  man  under  the  spur  of  necessity ;  a  man  who 
has  no  money  of  his  own.  l)ut  who  must  raise  a  certain 
amount,  let  us  say,  by  a  certain  date.  If  we  can  find 
such  a  man  in  that  company,  do  you  not  agree  with  me 
that  he  is  likely  to  be  the  thief  ?  " 
"  Yes,  I  do." 

"  Then  let  us  start  our  process  of  elimination.  Out 
goes  V^iscount  Stern,  a  Vi-Uy  individual  with  twenty 
thousand  acres  of  land,  and  God  only  knows  what  in- 
come. I  mark  off  the  name  of  Lord  Templemere,  one 
of  his  Majesty's  ju('gcs,  entirely  above  suspicion.  Next, 
Sir  John  Sanclcre ;  he  also  is  rich,  but  Vincent  Innis  is 
still  richer,  so  the  pencil  obliterates  both  names.  Now 
we  arrive  at  Angus  McKeller,  an  author  of  some  note, 
as  you  are  well  aware,  deriving  a  good  income  from 
his  books  and  a  better  one  from  his  plays ;  a  canny  Scot, 
so  we  may  rub  his  name  from  our  paper  and  our  mem- 
ory. How  do  my  erasures  correspond  with  yours,  Mon- 
sieur Valmont  ? " 

"  They  correspond  exactly.  Mr.  Dacre." 
"  I  am  flattered  to  hear  it.    There  remains  one  name 

117 


IS 


lyRiF^.-j' 


The  Triumphs  of  Eugene  Valmont 


untouched.  Mr.  Lionel  Dacre,  the  descendant,  as  I  have 
said,  of  robbers." 

"  I  have  not  said  so,  Mr.  Dacre." 

"Ah!  my  dear  Valmont,  the  politeness  of  your  coun- 
try asserts  itself.  Let  us  not  be  deluded,  but  follow  our 
inquiry  wherever  it  leads.  I  suspect  Lionel  Dacre. 
What  do  you  know  of  his  circumstances  before  the  din- 
ner of  the  twenty-third  >  " 

As  I  made  no  reply  he  looi<ed  up  at  me  with  his 
frank,  boyish  face  illumined  by  a  winning  smile. 

"You  know  nothing  of  his  circumstances?"  he 
asked. 

"  It  grieves  me  to  state  that  I  do.  Mr.  Lionel  Dacre 
was  penniless  on  the  night  of  the  dinner." 

"Oh,  don't  exaggerate,  Monsieur  Valmont,"  cried 
Dacre,  with  a  gesture  of  pathetic  protest;  "his  pocket 
held  one  sixpence,  two  pennies,  and  a  half-penny.  How 
came  you  to  suspect  he  was  penniless  ?  " 

"  I  knew  he  ordered  a  case  of  champagne  from  the 
London  representative  of  Camelot  Freres,  and  was  re- 
fused unless  he  paid  the  money  down." 

"Quite  right,  and  then  when  you  were  talking  to 
Plopper  you  saw  that  case  of  champagne  delivered  Ex- 
cellent! excellent!  Monsieur  Valmont.  But  will  a  man 
steal,  think  you,  even  to  supply  ,nmsclf  with  so  delicious 
a  wme  as  this  we  have  been  tasting  ?_and,  bv  the  wav 
forgive  my  neglect.  Allow  me  to  fill  vour  glass  Mon- 
sieur Valmont." 

"Not   another   drop,    if  you   will   excuse   me,    Mr 
Dacre." 

ii8 


mf^A":. 


The  Clew  of  the  Silver  Spoons 


"  Ah,  ves,  champagne  should  not  be  mixed  with  evi- 
I       dence     w  hen  we  have  finished,  perhaps.    What  further 
f       proof  have  you  di<r  jvered,  monsieur  ?  " 
*  "  ■   hold  proof  that  Mr.  Dacre  was  threatened  with 

r;.  bankruptcy  iT,  on  the  twenty-fourth,  he  (Hd  not  pay  a 
t  bill  of  seventy-eight  pounds  that  had  been  long  outstand- 
ing. I  hold  proof  that  this  was  paid,  not  on  the  twenty- 
1  fourth,  but  on  the  twenty-sixth.  JMr.  Dacre  had  gone 
to  the  solicitor  and  assured  him  he  would  pay  the 
money  on  that  date,  whereupon  he  was  given  two  days' 
grace." 

"  Ah,  well,  he  was  entitled  to  three,  you  know,  in 
law.    Yes,  there,  jMonsieur  \'almont,  you  touch  the  fatal 
I       point.     The  threat  of  bankruptcy  will  drive  a  man  in 
Dacre's  position  to  almost  any  crime.     Bankruptcy  to 
I       a  barrister  means  ruin.     It  means  a  career  blighted;  it 
I       means  a  life  buried,  with  little  chance  of  resurrection. 
^        I  see,  you  grasp  the  supreme  importance  of  that  bit  of 
I       evidence.     The  case  of  champagne  is  as  nothing  com- 
I        pared  with  it,  and  this  reminds  me  that  in  the  crisis 
t       now  upon  us  I  shall  take  another  sip,  with  your  permis- 
i        sion.     Sure  you  won't  join  me  ?  " 
I  "  Not  at  this  juncture,  Mr.  Dacre." 

-  "  I  envy  your  moderation.     Here's  to  the  success  of 

our  search,  Monsieur  Valmont." 

I  felt  sorry  for  the  gay  young  fellow  as  with  smil- 
g       ing  face  he  drank  the  champagne. 

I  "  Now,  monsieur,"  he  went  on,  "  I  am  amazed  to 

I        learn  how  much  you  have  discovered.     Really,  I  think 
tradespeople,  solicitors,  and  all  such  should  keep  better 

119 


""H 

§ 


!r.'*;-^:^AS-r' 


«!._ 


The  Triumphs  of  Eugene  Valmont 


guard  on  their  tongues  than  they  do.  Nevertheless,  these 
documents  at  my  elbow,  which  I  expected  would  sur- 
prise you,  are  merely  the  letters  and  icceipts.  Here 
is  the  communication  from  the  solicitor  threatening  me 
with  bankruptcy;  here  is  his  receipt  dated  the  twenty- 
sixth;  here  is  the  refusal  of  the  wine  merchant,  and 
here  is  his  receipt  for  the  money.  Here  are  smaller  bills 
liquidated.  With  my  pencil  we  will  add  them  up.  Sev- 
enty-eight pounds— the  principal  debt— bulks  large.  We 
add  the  smaller  items  and  it  reaches  a  total  of  ninety- 
three  pounds  seven  shillings  and  fourpence.  Let  us 
now  examme  my  purse.  Here  is  a  five-pound  note; 
there  is  a  golden  sovereign.  I  now  count  out  and  place 
on  the  table  twelve  and  sixpence  in  silver  and  twopence 
in  coppers.  The  purse  thus  becomes  empty.  Let  us  add 
the  silver  and  copper  to  the  amount  on  the  paper.  Do 
my  eyes  deceive  me,  or  is  the  sum  exactly  a  hundred 
pounds?    There  is  your  money  fully  accounted  for." 

"  Pardon  me,  Mr.  Dacre,"  I  said,  "  but  I  observe  a 
sovereign  resting  on  the  mantelpiece." 

Dacre  threw  back  his  head  and  laughed  with  greater 
heartiness  than  I  had  yet  known  him  to  indulge  in  dur- 
ing our  short  acquaintance. 

"By  Jove!"  he  cried;  "you've  got  me  there.  I'd 
forgotten  entirely  about  that  pound  on  the  mantelpiece, 
which  belongs  to  you." 

"  To  me  ?    Impossible !  " 

"  It  does,  and  cannot  interfere  in  the  least  with  our 
century  calculation.  That  is  the  sovereign  you  gave  to 
my  man  Hopper,  who,  knowing  me  to  be  hard  pressed, 

120 


1 


The  Clew  of  the  Silver  Spoons 


1 

I 


took  it  and  shamefacedly  presented  it  to  me.  tliat  I 
might  enjoy  the  spending  of  it.  Hopper  belongs  to  our 
family,  or  the  family  belongs  to  him.  I  am  never  sure 
which.  You  must  have  missed  in  him  the  deferential 
bearing  of  a  manservant  in  Paris,  yet  he  is  true  gold, 
like  the  sovereign  you  bestowed  upon  him,  and  he  be- 
stowed upon  me.  Now  here,  monsieur,  is  the  evidence 
of  the  theft,  together  with  the  ruhber  band  and  two 
pieces  of  cardboard.  Ask  my  friend  Gibbes  to  examine 
them  minutely.  They  are  all  at  your  disposition,  mon- 
sieur, and  thus  you  learn  how  much  easier  it  is  to  deal 
with  the  master  than  with  the  servant.  All  the  gold  you 
possess  would  not  have  wrung  these  incriminating  docu- 
ments from  old  Hopper.  I  was  compelled  to  send  him 
away  to  the  West  End  an  hour  ago,  fearing  that  in 
his  brutal  British  way  he  might  assault  you  if  he  got 
an  ^  of  your  mission." 

Dacre,"  said  I  slowly,  "  you  have  thoroughly 

convinced  me " 

"  I  thought  I  would,"  he  interrupted  with  a  laugh, 
"—that  you  did  not  take  the  money." 
"  Oho,  this  is  a  change  of  wind,  surely.  Many  a 
man  has  been  hanged  on  a  chain  of  circumstantial  evi- 
dence much  weaker  than  this  which  I  have  exhibited  to 
you.  Don't  you  see  the  subtlety  of  my  action?  Ninety- 
nine  persons  in  a  hundred  would  say :  *  No  man  could 
be  such  a  fool  as  to  put  Valmont  on  his  own  track,  and 
then  place  in  Valmont's  hands  such  striking  evidence.' 
But  there  comes  in  my  craftiness.  Of  course,  the  rock 
you  run  up  against  will  be  Gibbes's  incredulity.    The  first 

9  121 


12 

r-n 

:5 


The  Triumphs  of  Eugene  Valmont 


',  1 


if 


question  he  will  isk  you  may  be  this :  '  Why  did  not 
Dacre  come  and  borrow  the  money  from  me  ?  '  Now 
there  you  find  a  certain  weakness  in  your  chain  of  evi- 
dence. I  knew  perfectly  well  that  Gibbes  would  lend  me 
the  money,  and  he  knew  perfectly  well  that  if  I  were 
pressed  to  the  wall  I  should  ask  him." 

"  Mr,  Dacre,"  said  I,  "  you  have  been  playing  with 
me.  I  should  resent  that  with  most  men,  but  whether 
it  is  your  own  genial  manner  or  the  effect  of  this  excel- 
lent champagne,  or  both  togeti<er,  I  forgive  you.  But 
I  am  convinced  of  another  thing.  You  know  who  took 
the  money." 

"  I  don't  know,  but  I  suspect." 

"  Will  you  tell  me  whom  you  suspect  ?  " 

"  That  would  not  be  fair,  but  I  shall  now  take  the 
liberty  of  filling  your  glass  with  champagne." 

"  I  am  your  guest,  Mr.  Dacre." 

"  Admirably  answered,  monsieur,"  he  replied,  pour- 
ing out  the  wine,  "  and  now  I  offer  you  a  clew.  Find 
out  all  about  the  story  of  the  silver  spoons." 

"  The  story  of  the  silver  spoons !  What  silver 
spoons  ?  " 

"Ah!  That  is  the  point.  Step  out  of  the  Temple 
into  Fleet  Street,  seize  the  first  man  you  meet  by  the 
shoulder,  and  ask  him  to  tell  you  about  the  silver  spoons. 
There  are  but  two  men  and  two  spoons  concerned. 
When  you  learn  who  those  two  men  are,  you  will  know 
that  one  of  them  did  not  take  the  money,  and  I  give 
you  my  assurance  that  the  other  did." 

"  You  speak  in  mystery,  Mr.  Dacre." 

122 


The  Clew  of  the  Silver  Spoons 


Vi 


"  But  certainly,  for  I  am  speaking  to  Monsieur  Eu- 
gene Valmont." 

"  I  echo  your  words,  sir.  Admirably  answered.  You 
put  me  on  my  mettle,  and  I  flatter  myself  that  I  see 
your  kindly  drift.  You  wish  me  to  solve  the  mystery 
of  this  stolen  money.  Sir,  you  do  me  honor,  and  I  drink 
to  your  health." 

"  To  yours,  monsieur,"  said  Lionel  Dacre,  and  thus 
we  drank  and  parted. 

On  leaving  Mr.  Dacre  I  took  a  hansom  to  a  cafe  in 
Regent  Street,  which  is  a  passable  imitation  of  similar 
I)laces  of  refreshment  in  Paris.  There,  calling  for  a  cup 
of  black  coffee,  I  sat  down  to  think.  The  clew  of  the 
silver  spoons!  He  had  laughingly  suggested  that  I 
should  take  by  the  shoulders  the  first  man  I  met,  and 
ask  him  what  the  story  of  the  silver  spoons  was.  This 
course  naturally  struck  me  as  absurd,  and  he  doubt- 
less intended  it  to  seem  absurd.  Nevertheless,  it  con- 
tained a  hint.  I  must  ask  somebody,  and  that  the  right 
person,  to  tell  me  the  tale  of  the  silver  spoons. 

Under  the  influence  of  the  black  coflFee  I  reasoned  it 
out  in  this  way.  On  the  night  of  the  twenty-third  one  of 
the  six  guests  there  present  stole  a  hundred  pounds,  but 
Dacre  had  said  that  an  actor  in  the  silver-spoon  episode 
was  the  actual  thief.  That  person,  then,  must  have  been 
one  of  Mr.  Gibbes's  guests  at  the  dinner  of  the  twenty- 
third.  Probably  two  of  the  guests  were  the  participa- 
tors in  the  silver-spoon  comedy,  but,  be  that  as  it  may, 
it  followed  that  one,  at  least,  of  the  men  around  Mr. 
Gibbes's  table  knew  the  episode  of  the  silver  spoons. 

123 


5^ 


The  Triumphs  of  Eugene  Valmont 


•f. 


Perhaps  Bentham  Gibbcs  liimsclf  was  cognizant  of  it. 
It  followed,  therefore,  that  the  easiest  plan  was  to  qucs 
tion  each  of  the  men  who  partook  of  that  dinner.  Yet 
if  only  one  knew  about  the  spoons,  that  one  must  also 
have  some  idea  that  these  spoons  formed  the  clew 
which  attached  him  to  the  crime  of  the  twenty-third, 
in  which  case  he  was  little  likely  to  divulge  what  in- 
knew  to  an  entire  stranger. 

Of  course,  I  might  go  to  Dacre  himself  and  demaml 
the  story  of  the  silver  spoons,  but  this  would  be  a  con- 
fession of  failure  on  my  part,  and  I  rather  dreaded  Lionel 
Dacre's  hearty  laughter  when  I  admitted  that  the  mys- 
tery was  too  much  for  me.  Besides  this  I  was  very  well 
aware  of  the  young  man's  kindly  intentions  toward  me. 
He  wished  me  to  unravel  the  coil  myself,  and  so  I  de- 
t.rmined  not  to  go  to  him  except  as  a  last  resource. 

I  resolved  to  begin  with  Mr.  Gibbes,  and,  finishiii'r 
my  coflfee,  I  got  again  into  a  hansom,  and  drove  back 
to  the  Temple.  I  found  Bentham  Gibbes  in  his  room, 
and  after  greeting  me,  his  first  inquiry  was  about  tjie 
case. 

"  How  are  you  getting  on  ?  "  he  asked. 

"  I  think  I'm  getting  on  fairly  well,"  I  replied,  "  and 
expect  to  finish  in  a  day  or  two,  if  you  will  kindly  tell 
me  the  story  of  the  silver  spoons." 

"  The  silver  spoons? "  he  echoed,  quite  evidently  not 
understanding  me. 

"  There  happened  an  incident  in  which  two  men  were 
engaged,  and  this  incident  related  to  a  pair  of  silver 
spoons,    I  want  to  get  the  particulars  of  that." 

124 


yWW^T^W^^W^ 


The  Clew  of  the  Silver  Spoons 


IS 


"  I  havctrt  the  slightest  idea  of  what  you  are  talking 
about."  rephed  Gibbcs.  thoroughly  bewildered.  "You 
will  need  to  be  more  definite,  I  fear,  if  you  arc  to  get 
any  help  from  me." 

"  I  cannot  be  more  definite,  because  I  have  already 
told  you  all  I  know." 

•'What  bearing  has  all  this  on  our  own  case?" 
"  I  was  informed  that  if  I  got  hold  of  the  clew  of  the 

silver  spoons  I  should  be  in  a  fair  way  of  settling  our 

case." 

"  Who  told  you  that  ?  " 
"  Mr.  Lionel  Dacre." 

"  Oh,  does  Dacre  refer  to  his  own  conjuring?  " 
"  I  don't  know,  I'm  sure.    What  was  his  conjuring?  " 
"  A  very  clever  trick  he  did  one  night  at  dinner  here 
about  two  months  ago." 

"  Had  it  anything  to  do  with  silver  spoons  ?  " 
"  Well,  it  was  silver  spoons  or  silver  forks,  or  some- 
tlnng  of  that  kind.    I  had  entirely  forgotten  the  incident 
So  far  as  I  recollect  at  the  moment  there  was  a  sleight- 
of-hand  man  of  great  expertness  in  one  of  the  music 
halls,  and  the  talk  turned  upon  him.     Then  Dacre  said 
the  tncks  he  did  were  easy,  and  holding  up  a  spoon  or 
a  fork.  I  don't  remember  which,  he  professed  his  ability 
to  make  it  disappear  before  our  eyes,  to  be  found  after- 
wards in  the  clothing  of  some  one  there  present     Sev- 
eral offered  to  bet  that  he  could  do  nothing  of  the  kind 
but  he  said  he  would  bet  with  no  one  but  Innis,  who' sat 
opposite   him.      Innis,   with   some   reluctance,   accepted 
the  bet.  and  then  Dacre,  with  a  great  sliow  of  the  usual 

125 


f-2 

<> 

si 


The  Triumphs  of  Eugene  Valmont 

conjurer's  gesticulations,  spread  forth  his  Mnpty  hands, 
and  said  we  should  find  the  spoon  in  Inti.s's  pocket, 
and  there,  sure  enough,  it  was.  It  seemed  a  proper 
sleight-of-hand  trick,  but  we  were  never  able  to  get  him 
to  repeat  it." 

"  Thank  you  very  much,  Mr.  Gibbes ;  I  think  I  sec 
daylight  now." 

"  If  you  do  you  are  cleverer  than  I  by  a  long  chalk, ' 
cried  Benthani  Gibbes  as  I  took  my  departure. 

I  went  directly  downstairs,  and  knocked  at  Mr. 
Dacre's  door  once  more.  He  opened  the  door  himself, 
his  man  not  yet  having  returned. 

"Ah,  monsieur,"  he  cried,  "back  already?  You 
don't  mean  to  tell  me  you  have  so  soon  got  to  the  bottom 
of  the  silver-spoon  entanglement  ?  " 

"  I  think  I  have,  Mr.  Dacre.  You  were  sitting  at 
dinner  opposite  Mr.  Vincent  Innis.  You  saw  him  con- 
ceal a  silver  spoon  in  his  pocket.  You  probably  waited 
for  some  time  to  understand  what  he  meant  by  this,  and 
as  he  did  not  return  the  spoon  to  its  place,  you  proposed 
a  conjuring  trick,  made  the  bet  with  him,  and  thus  the 
spoon  was  returned  to  the  table." 

"Excellent!  excellent,  monsieur!  that  is  very  nearlv 
what  occurred,  except  that  I  acted  at  once.  I  had  had 
experiences  with  Mr.  Vincent  Innis  before.  Never  did 
he  enter  these  rooms  of  mine  without  my  missing  some 
little  trinket  after  he  was  gone.  Although  Mr.  Innis  is 
a  very  rich  person,  I  am  not  a  man  of  many  possessions 
so  if  anything  is  taken,  I  meet  little  difficulty  in  coming 
to  a  knowledge  of  my  loss.     Of  course,  i  never  men- 

126 


Tts^TzT^ 


i«\3tiiikis'JSiiimmnwT\k 


TVW^ 


The  Clew  of  the  Silver  Spoons 


% 

-KJ. 

1 


tioned  these  abstractions  to  him.    They  were  all  trivial, 
as  I  have  said,  and  so  far  as  the  silver  spoon  was  con- 
cerned, it  was  of  no  great  value  either.     But  I  thought 
the  bet  and  the  recovery  of  the  spoon  would  teach  him 
a  lesson;  it  apparently  has  not  done  so.     On  the  night 
of  the  tv>  enty-third  he  sat  at  my  right  hand,  as  you 
will  see  by  consulting  your  diagram  of  the  table  and  the 
guests.     I  asked  him  a  question  twice,  to  which  he  did 
not  reply,  and  looking  at  him  I  was  startled  by  the  ex- 
pression in  his  eyes.    They  were  fixed  on  a  distant  cor- 
ner of  the  room,  and  following  his  gaze  I  saw  what  he 
was  staring  at  with  such  hypnotizing  concentration.    So 
absorbed  was  he  in  contemplation  of  the  packet  there 
so  plainly  exposed,  now  my  attention  was  turned  to  it, 
that  he  seemed  to  be  entirely  oblivious  of  what  was 
going  on  around  him.     I  roused  him  from  his  trance 
by  jocularly  calling  Gibbes's  attention  to  the  display  of 
money.    I  expected  in  this  way  to  save  Innis  from  com- 
mitting the  act  which  he  seemingly  did  commit.     Im- 
agine then  the  dilemma  in  which  I  was  placed  when 
Gibbes  confided  to  me  the  morning  after  what  had  oc- 
curred the  night  before.    I  was  positive  Innis  had  taken 
the  money,  yet  I  possessed  no  proof  of  it.     I  could  not 
tell  Gibbes,  and  I  dared  not  speak  to  Innis.    Of  course, 
monsieur,  you  do  not  need  to  be  told  that  Innis  is  not 
a  thief  in  the  ordinary  sense  of  the  word.     He  had  no 
need  to  steal,  and  yet  apparently  cannot  help  doing  so. 
I  am  sure  that  no  attempt  has  been  made  to  pass  those 
notes.    They  are  doubtless  resting  securely  in  his  house 
at  Kensington.     He  is,  in  fact,  a  kleptomaniac,  or  a 

127 


si 


^TSFr7%vr^ 


'^■iv*',.T.vy-: 


•J'-.V 


^?^ 


The  Triumphs  of  Eugene  Valmont 


maniac  of  some  sort.    And  now,  monsieur,  was  my  hint 
regarding  the  silver  spoons  of  any  vaUie  to  you?  " 
"  Of  the  most  infinite  value,  Mr.  Dacre." 
"  Then  let  mc  make  another  suggestion.     I  leave  it 
entirely  to  your  bravery;  a  bravery  which,  I  confess,  I 
do  not  myself  possess.    Will  you  take  a  hansom,  drive  to 
Mr.  Innis's  house  on  the  Cromwell  Road,  confront  him 
quietly,  and  ask  for  the  return  of  the  packet?     I  am 
anxious  to  know  what  will  happen.     If  he  hands  it  to 
you,  as  I  expect  he  will,  then  you  must  tell  Mr.  Gibbes 
the  whole  story.'* 

"Mr.  Dacre,  your  suggestion  shall  be  immediately 
acted  upon,  and  I  thank  you  for  your  compliment  to  my 
courage." 

I  found  that  Mr.  Innis  inhabited  a  very  grand  house. 
After  a  time  he  entered  the  study  on  the  ground  floor, 
to  which  I  had  been  conducted.  He  held  my  card  in  hiJ 
hand,  and  was  looking  at  it  with  some  surprise. 

"  I  think  I  have  not  the  pleasure  of  knowing 
Monsieur  Valmont,"  he  said  courteously  enough.'' 

"  No.  I  ventured  to  call  on  a  matter  of  business.  I 
was  onct  investigator  for  the  French  Government,  and 
now  am  doing  private  detective  work  here  in  London." 

"Ah!  And  how  is  that  supposed  to  interest  me? 
There  is  nothing  that  I  wish  investigated.  I  did  not  send 
for  you,  did  I  ?  " 

"  No,  Mr.  Innis,  I  merely  took  the  liberty  of  calling 
to  ask  you  to  let  me  have  the  package  you  took  from 
Mr.  Bentham  Gibbes's  frock-coat  pocket  on  the  night 
of  the  twenty-third." 

128 


The  Clew  of  the  Silver  Spoons 


"  He  wishes  it  returned,  docs  he?  " 

'•  Yes." 

Mr.  Innis  calmly  walked  to  a  desk,  which  he  un- 
locked and  opened,  displaying'  a  veritable  museum  of 
trinkets  of  one  sort  and  another.  Pullinp  out  a  small 
drawer  he  took  from  it  the  packet  containing  the  five 
twenty-pound  notes.  Apparently  it  had  never  been 
opened.    With  a  smile  he  handed  it  to  me. 

"  You  will  make  my  apologies  to  Mr.  Gibbcs  for 
not  returning  it  before.  Tell  him  I  have  bvcn  unusually 
bus>  of  late." 

"  I  shall  not  fail  to  do  so,"  said  I.  with  a  bow. 

"  Thanks  so  much.  Good  morning.  Monsieur  Val- 
mont." 

"  Good  morning,  Mr.  Innis." 

And  so  I  returned  the  packet  to  Mr.  Bentham  Gibbes. 
who  pulled  the  notes  from  between  their  pasteboaru  o- 
tcction,  and  begged  me  to  accept  them. 


1^ 


129 


1^  t-€ 


CHAPTER   XI 


O    MY    I'KOl'lIETIC    SOUL,    My    UNCLE !" 

|HE  name  of  the  late  Lord  Chizelrigg  never 
cc^mes  to  my  mind  without  instantly  sujj 
gcstinj;  that  of  Mr.  T.  A.  Edison.  I 
never  saw  the  late  Lord  C'hizelrigg,  and 
I  have  met  Mr.  ICdison  only  twice  in  my 
life,  yet  the  two  men  arc  linked  in  my  memory,  and 
it  was  a  remark  tiie  latter  once  made  that  in  great 
measure  enabled  me  to  solve  the  mystery  which  the 
former  had  wrapped  round  his  actions. 

There  is  no  memorandum  at  hand  to  tell  me  the  year 
in  which  those  two  meetings   with  Edison  took  place. 
I  received  a  note  from  the  Italian  Ambassador  in  Paris 
requesting  me  to   wait   upon  him  at  the  Embassy.     I 
learned  that  on  the  next  day  a  deputation  was  to  set 
out  from  the  Embassy  to  one  of  the  chief  hotels,  there 
to  make  a  call  in  state  upon  the  great  American  inventor, 
and   formally   present   to  him   various   insignia  accom 
panying  certain   honors   which   the  King  of  Italy  hat! 
conferred  upon  him.     As  many  Italian  nobles  of  high 
rank  had  been  invited,  and  as  these  dignitaries  would 
not  only  be  robed  in  the  costumes  pertaining  to  their 
orders,  but  in  many  cases  would  wear  jewels  of  almost 
inestimable  value,  my  presence  was  desired  in  the  bc- 

130 


O  My  Pruphetic  Soul.  My   Incl, 


.  I 


lief  that  I  might  jK-rhaps  be  able  to  ward  off  any  attempt 
on  the  part  of  the  dcft-handcd  gojitry  who  mi^ht  jwssibly 
make  an  ctTort  to  gain  these  treasures,  an<l  I  may  add. 
with  perhaps  some  httle  self-gratification,  no  contre- 
temps occurred. 

Mr.  H(hson,  of  course,  fiad  long  before  received  noti- 
fication of  the  hour  at  wliich  the  deputatitin  would  wait 
upon  him,  but  when  we  entered  the  large  parlor  assigned 
to  the  inventor,  it  was  evident  to  uie  at  a  glance  that 
the  celebrated  tnan  had  forgotten  all  alH)Ut  the  function. 
He  stood  by  a  bare  table,  frf)ui  which  the  cloth  had  been 
jerked  and  Ihmg  into  a  corner,  and  upon  that  table  were 
placed  several  bits  of  black  and  greasy  machinery — cog- 
wheels,  pulleys,   bolts,   etc.     These   seemingly   belonged 
to  a  French  workman  who  stood  on  the  other  side  of 
the   table,    with   one   of   the   parts    in    his   grimy   hand. 
Edi.son's  own  hands  were  not  too  clean,  for  he  had  pal- 
pably been  examining  tlie  material,  and  conversing  with 
the  workman,  who  wore  the  ordinary  long  blouse  of  an 
iron  craftsman  in  a  small  way.     I  judged  him  to  be  a 
man  with  a  little  shop  of  his  own  in  some  back  street, 
who  did  odd  jobs  oi  engineering,  assisted,  perhaps,  by  a 
skilled  helper  or  two,  an<l  a  few  apprentice.     Edison 
looked  sternly  toward  the  door  as  the  solemn  procession 
filed  in,  and  there  was  a  trace  of  annoyance  on  his  face 
at  the  interruption,  mi.xed  with  a  shade  of  perplexity 
as  to  what  this  gorgeous  display  all  meant.    The  Italian 
is  as  ceremonious  as  the  Spaniard  where  a  function  is 
concerned,   and   the  official   who   held   the  ornate  box 
which  contained  the  jewelr>  resting  on  a  velvet  cushion 


The  Triumphs  of  Eugene  Falmont 


stepped  slowly  forward,  and  came  to  a  stand  in  front 
of  the  bewildered  American.     Then   the  Ambassador, 
in  sonorous  voice,  spoke  some  gracious  words  regard- 
ing the  friendship  existing  between  the  United  States 
and  Italy,  expressed  a  wish  that  their  rivalry  should 
ever  take  the  form  of  benefits  conferred  upon  the  human 
race,  and  instanced  the  honored  recipient  as  the  most 
notable  example  the  world  had  yet  produced  of  a  man 
bestowing  blessings  upon  all  nations  in  the  arts  of  peace. 
The  eloquent  Ambassador  concluded  by  saying  that,  at 
the  command  of  his  royal  master,  it  was  both  his  duty 
and  his  pleasure  to  present,  and  so  forth  and  so  forth. 
Mr.   Edison,  visibly  ill  at  ease,   nevertheless  made 
a  suitable  reply  in  the  fewest  possible  words,  and  the 
etalage  being  thus  at  an  end,  the  noblemen,  headed  by 
their  Ambassador,   slowly  retired,  myself  forming  the 
tail  of  th»  procession.     Inwardly  I  deeply  sympathized 
with  the  French  workman  who  thus  unexpectedly  found 
himself  confronted  by  so  much  magnificence.     He  cast 
one  wild  look  about  him,  but  saw  that  his  retreat  was 
cut  oflf,   unless   he  displaced   some  of  these  gorgeous 
grandees.     He  tried  then  to  shrink  into  himself,  and 
finally  stood  helpless,  like  one  paralyzed.     In  spite  of 
republican    institutions,    there   is   deep   down    in   every 
Frenchman's  heart  a  respect  and  awe  for  official  pa- 
geants, sumptuously  staged  and  costumed  as  this  one 
was.    But  he  likes  to  view  it  from  afar,  and  supported 
by  his  fellows,  not  thrust  incongruously  into  the  midst 
of  things,  as  was  the  case  with  this  panic-stricken  en- 
gineer.   As  I  passed  out,  I  cast  a  glance  over  my  shoul 

132 


.r.v*"^;--:4' 


"  O  My  Prophetic  Soul,  My  Uncle/  " 


der  at  the  humble  artisan  content  with  a  profit  of  a  few 
francs  a  day,  and  at  the  miUionaire  inventor  opposite 
him.  Edison's  face,  which  during  the  address  had  been 
cold  and  impassive,  reminding  me  vividly  of  a  bust  of 
Napoleon,  was  now  all  aglow  with  enthusiasm  as  he 
turned  to  his  humble  visitor.  He  cried  joyfully  to 
the  workman: 

"A  minute's  demcnstration  is  worth  an  hour's  ex- 
planation. I'll  call  round  to-morrow  at  your  shop,  about 
ten  o'clock,  and  show  you  how  to  make  the  thing  work." 
I  lingered  in  the  hall  until  the  Frenchman  came  out, 
then,  introducing  myself  to  him,  asked  the  privilege  of 
visiting  his  shop  next  day  at  ten.  This  was  accorded 
with  that  courtesy  which  you  will  always  find  among  the 
industrial  classes  of  France,  and  next  day  I  had  the 
pleasure  of  meeting  Mr.  Edison.  During  our  conversa- 
tion I  complimented  him  on  his  invention  of  the  incan- 
descent electric  light,  and  this  was  the  reply  that  has 
ever  remained  in  my  memory: 

"  It  was  not  an  invention,  but  a  discovery.  We 
knew  what  we  wanted :  a  carbonized  tissue,  which  would 
withstand  the  electric  current  in  a  vacuum  for,  say,  a 
thousand  hours.  If  no  such  tissue  existed,  then  the  in- 
candescent light,  as  we  know  it,  was  not  possible.  My 
assistants  started  out  to  find  this  tissue,  and  we  simply 
carbonized  everything  we  could  lay  our  hands  on,  and 
ran  the  current  through  it  in  a  vacuum.  At  last  we 
struck  the  right  thing,  as  we  were  bound  to  do  if  we  kept 
on  long  enough,  and  if  the  thing  existed.  Patience  and 
hard  work  will  overcome  any  obstacle." 

^33 


The  Triumphs  of  Eugene  Valmont 


'i. 


This  belief  has  been  of  great  assistance  to  me  in  my 
profession.  I  know  the  idea  is  prevalent  that  a  detective 
arrives  at  his  solutions  in  a  dramatic  way  through  fol- 
lowing clews  invisible  to  the  ordinary  man.  This  doubt- 
less frequently  happens,  but,  as  a  general  thing,  the 
patience  and  hard  work  which  Mr.  Edison  commends 
is  a  much  safer  guide.  Very  often  the  following  of 
excellent  clews  has  led  me  to  disaster,  as  was  the  case 
with  my  unfortunate  attempt  to  solve  the  mystery  of  the 
five  hundred  diamonds. 

As  I  was  saying,  I  never  think  of  the  late  Lord 
Chizelrigg  without  remembering  Mr.  Edison  at  the  same 
time,  and  yet  the  two  were  very  dissimilar.  I  suppose 
Lord  Chizelrigg  was  the  most  useless  man  that  ever 
lived,  while  Edison  is  the  opposite. 

One  day  my  servant  brought  in  to  me  a  card  on 
which  was  engraved  "  Lord  Chizelrigg." 

"  Show  his  lordship  in,"  I  said,  and  there  appeared 
a  young  man  of  perhaps  twenty- four  or  twenty-five, 
well  dressed,  and  of  most  charming  manners,  who,  never- 
theless, began  his  interview  by  asking  a  question  such 
as  had  never  before  been  addressed  to  me,  and  which, 
if  put  to  a  solicitor  or  other  professional  man,  would 
have  been  answered  with  some  indignation.  Indeed,  I 
believe  it  is  a  written  or  unwritten  law  of  the  legal 
profession  that  the  acceptance  of  such  a  proposal  as  Lord 
Chizelrigg  made  to  me  would,  if  proved,  result  in  the 
disgrace  and  ruin  of  the  lawyer. 

"Monsieur  Valmont,"  began  Lord  Chizelrigg,  "do 
you  ever  take  up  cases  on  speculation  ? " 

134 


O  My  Prophetic  Soul,  My  Uncle/ 


"  On  speculation,  sir  ?  I  do  not  think  I  understand 
you." 

His  lordship  blushed  like  a  girl,  and  stammered 
slightly  as  he  attempted  an  explanation. 

"  What  I  mean  is,  do  you  accept  a  case  on  a  con- 
tingent fee?  That  is  to  say,  monsieur — er — well,  not  to 
put  too  fine  a  point  upon  it,  no  results,  no  pay." 

I  replied  somewhat  severely : 

"  Such  an  offer  has  never  been  made  to  me,  and  I 
may  say  at  once  that  I  should  be  compelled  to  decline 
it  were  I  favored  with  the  opportunity.  In  the  cases 
submitted  to  me,  I  devote  my  t'  ^e  and  attention  to  their 
solution.  I  try  to  deserve  success,  but  I  cannot  com- 
mand it,  and  as  in  the  interim  I  must  live,  I  am  reluc- 
tantly compelled  to  make  a  charge  for  my  time,  at  least. 
I  believe  the  doctor  sends  in  his  bill,  though  the  patient 
dies." 

The  young  man  laughed  uneasily,  and  seemed  al- 
most too  embarrassed  to  proceed,  but  finally  he  said : 

"  Your  illustration  strikes  home  with  greater  accu- 
racy than  probably  you  imagined  when  you  uttered  it. 
I  have  just  paid  my  last  penny  to  the  physician  who  at- 
tended my  late  uncle,  Lord  Chizelrigg,  who  died  six 
months  ago.  I  am  fully  aware  that  the  suggestion  I 
made  may  seem  like  a  reflection  upon  your  skill,  or, 
rather,  as  implying  a  doubt  regarding  it.  But  I  should 
be  grieved,  monsieur,  if  you  fell  into  such  an  error. 
I  could  have  come  here  and  commissioned  you  to  under- 
take some  elucidation  of  the  strange  situation  in  which 
I  find  myself,  and  I  make  no  doubt  you  would  have 

135 


•a 


The  Triumphs  of  Eugene  Valmont 


v 


accepted  the  task  if  your  numerous  engagements  had 
permitted.  Then,  if  you  failed,  I  should  have  been  un- 
able to  pay  you,  for  I  am  practically  bankrupt.  My 
whole  desire,  therefore,  was  to  make  an  honest  begin- 
ning, and  to  let  you  know  exactly  how  I  stand.  If  you 
succeed,  I  shall  be  a  rich  man ;  if  you  do  not  succeed,  I 
shall  be  what  I  am  now,  penniless.  Have  I  made  it 
plain  now  why  I  began  with  a  question  which  you  had 
every  right  to  resent  ?  " 

"  Perfectly  plain,  my  lord,  and  your  candor  does  you 
credit." 

I  was  very  much  taken  with  the  unassuming  man- 
ners of  the  young  man,  and  his  evident  desire  to  accept 
no  service  under  false  pretenoes.  When  I  had  finished 
my  sentence  the  pauper  nobleman  rose  to  his  feet  and 
bowed. 

"  I  am  very  much  your  debtor,  monsieur,  for  your 
courtesy  in  receiving  me,  and  can  only  beg  pardon  for 
occupying  your  time  on  a  futile  quest.  I  wish  you  good 
morning,  monsieur." 

"  One  moment,  my  lord,"  I  rejoined,  waving  him  to 
his  chair  again.  "Although  I  am  unprepared  to  ac- 
cept a  commission  on  the  terms  you  suggest,  I  may. 
nevertheless,  be  able  to  offer  a  hint  or  two  that  will  prove 
of  service  to  you.  I  think  I  remember  the  announcement 
of  Lord  Chizelrigg's  death.  He  was  somewhat  eccen- 
tric, was  he  not  ?  " 

"Eccentric?"  said  the  young  man,  with  a  slight 
laugh,  seating  himself  again.    "  Well,  rather  \  " 

"  I  vaguely  remember  that  he  was  accredited  with 

136 


O  My  Prophetic  Soul,  My   Uncle! 


the  possession  of  something  like  twenty  thoasand  acres 
of  land  ?  " 

"  Twenty-seven  thousand,  as  a  matter  of  fact,"  re- 
plied my  visitor. 

"  Have  you  fallen  heir  to  the  lands  as  well  as  to  the 
title?" 

"  Oh,  yes ;  the  estate  was  entailed.  The  old  gentle- 
man could  not  divert  it  from  me  if  he  would,  and  I 
rather  suspect  that  fact  must  have  been  the  cause  of 
.some  worry  to  him." 

"  But  surely,  my  lord,  a  man  who  owns,  as  one  might 
say,  a  principality  in  this  wealthy  realm  of  England, 
cannot  be  penniless  ?  " 

Again  the  young  man  laughed. 

"Well,  no,"  he  replied,  thrusting  his  hand  in  his 
pocket  and  bringing  to  light  a  few  brown  coppers  and 
a  white  silver  piece.  "  I  possess  enough  money  to  buy 
some  food  to-night,  but  not  enough  to  dine  at  the  Hotel 
Cecil.  You  see,  it  is  like  this.  I  belong  to  a  somewhat 
ancient  family,  various  members  of  whom  went  the  pace, 
and  mortgaged  their  acres  up  to  the  hilt.  I  could  not 
raise  a  further  penny  on  my  estates  were  I  to  try  my 
hardest,  because  at  the  time  the  money  was  lent,  land 
was  much  more  valuable  than  it  is  to-day.  Agricultural 
depression,  and  all  that  sort  of  thing,  have,  if  I  may  put 
it  so,  left  me  a  good  many  thousands  worse  off  than  if 
I  had  no  land  at  all.  Besides  this,  during  my  late  uncle's 
life,  Parliament,  on  his  behalf,  intervened  once  or  twice, 
allowing  him  in  the  first  place  to  cut  valuable  timber, 
and  in  the  second  place  to  sell  the  pictures  of  Chizelrigg 
10  ,37 


The  Triumphs  of  Eugene  Falmont 

Chase  at  Christie's  for  figures  which  make  one's  mouth 
water." 

"  And  what  became  of  the  money  ?  "  I  asked ;  where- 
upon once  more  this  genial  nobleman  laughed. 

"  That  is  exactly  what  I  came  up  in  the  lift  to  learn 
if  Monsieur  Valmont  could  discover." 

"  My  lord,  you  interest  me,"  I  said,  quite  truly,  with 
an  uneasy  apprehension  that  I  should  take  up  his  case 
after  all,  for  I  liked  the  young  man  already.  His  lack 
of  pretense  appealed  to  me,  and  that  sympathy  which  is 
so  universal  among  my  countrymen  enveloped  him,  as 
I  may  say,  quite  independent  of  my  own  will. 

"  My  uncle,"  went  on  Lord  Chizelrigg,  "  was  some- 
what of  an  anomaly  in  our  family.  He  must  have  been 
a  reversal  to  a  very,  very  ancient  type ;  a  type  of  which 
we  have  no  record.  He  was  as  miserly  as  his  forefathers 
were  prodigal.  When  he  came  into  the  title  and  estate 
some  twenty  years  ago,  he  dismissed  the  whole  retinue 
of  servants,  and,  indeed,  was  defendant  in  several  cases 
at  law  where  retainers  of  our  family  brought  suit  against 
him  for  wrongful  dismissal,  or  dismissal  without  a  penny 
compensation  in  lieu  of  notice.  I  am  pleased  to  say  lie 
lost  all  his  cases,  and  when  he  pleaded  poverty,  got  per- 
mission to  sell  a  certain  number  of  heirlooms,  enabling; 
him  to  make  compensation,  and  giving  him  something 
on  which  to  live.  These  heirlooms  at  auction  sold  so 
unexpectedly  well,  that  my  uncle  acquired  a  taste,  as  it 
were,  of  what  might  be  done.  He  could  always  prove 
that  the  rents  went  to  the  mortgagees,  and  that  he  had 
nothing  on  which  to  exist,  so  on  several  occasions  he  ob- 

138 


-  ^r 'HI'    wrmm^*         *Ki>Vits!*fc'i 


t« 


O  My  Prophetic  Soul,  My   Uncle!  " 


tained  permission  from  the  courts  to  cut  timber  and  sell 
pictures,  until  he  denuded  :he  estate  and  made  an  empty 
barn  of  the  old  manor  house.    He  lived  like  any  laborer, 
occupying  himself  sometimes  as  a  cari)enter,  sometimes 
as  a  blacksmith ;  indeed,  he  made  a  blacksmith's  shop  of 
the  library,  one  of  the  most  noble  rooms  in  Uritain.  con- 
taining tliousands  of  valuable  books  which  again  and 
again  he  applied  for  permission  to  sell,  but  this  privilege 
was  never  granted  to  him.     I  find,  on  coming  into  the 
property,  that  my  uncle  quite  persistently  evaded  the 
law,  and  depleted  this  superb  collection,  book  by  book, 
surreptitiously,   through   dealers    in    London.      This,   of 
course,  would  have  got  him  into  deep  trouble  if  it  had 
been  discovered  before  his  death,  but  now  the  valuable 
volumes  are  gone,  and  there  is  no  redress.     iMany  of 
them  are  doubtless  in  America  or  in  museums  and  col- 
lections of  Europe." 

"  You  wish  me  to  trace  them,  perhaps  ?  "  I  interpo- 
lated. 

"  Oh,  no ;  they  are  past  praying  for.  The  old  man 
made  tens  of  thousands  by  the  sale  of  the  timber,  and 
other  tens  of  thousands  by  disposing  of  the  pictures. 
The  house  is  denuded  of  its  fine  old  furniture,  which  was 
immensely  valuable,  and  then  the  books,  as  I  have  said, 
must  have  brought  in  the  revenue  of  a  prince,  if  he  got 
anything  like  their  value,  and  you  may  be  sure  he  was 
shrewd  enough  to  know  their  worth.  Since  the  last  re- 
fusal of  the  courts  to  allow  him  further  relief,  as  he 
tenned  it,  which  was  some  seven  years  ago,  he  had  quite 
evidently  been  disposing  of  books   and   furniture   by 

139 


:2 

-5 


The  Triumphs  of  Eugene  Falmont 


a  private  sale,  in  defiance  of  the  law.  At  that  time  I  was 
under  age,  but  my  guardians  opposed  his  application  t<» 
the  courts,  and  demanded  an  account  of  the  moneys  a! 
ready  in  his  hands.  The  judges  upheld  the  opposition 
of  my  guardians,  and  refused  to  allow  a  further  spolia- 
tion of  the  estate,  but  they  did  not  grant  the  accounting 
my  guardians  asked,  because  the  proceeds  of  the  former 
sales  were  entirely  at  the  disposal  of  my  uncle,  and  were 
sanctioned  by  the  law  to  permit  him  to  live  as  befitted 
his  station.  If  he  lived  meagerly  instead  of  lavishly,  as 
my  guardians  contended,  that,  the  judges  said,  was  his 
affair,  and  there  the  matter  ended. 

My  uncle  took  a  violent  dislike  to  me  on  account  of 
this  opposition  to  his  last  application,  although,  of  course, 
I  had  nothing  whatever  to  do  with  the  matter.  He  lived 
like  a  hermit,  mostly  in  the  library,  and  was  waited 
upon  by  an  old  man  and  his  wife,  and  these  three  were 
the  only  inhabitants  of  a  mansion  that  could  comfortablv 
house  a  hundred.  He  visited  nobody,  and  would  allow 
no  one  to  approach  Chizelrigg  Chase.  In  order  that  all 
who  had  the  misfortune  to  have  dealings  with  him 
should  continue  to  endure  trouble  after  his  death,  he  left 
what  might  be  called  a  will,  but  which  rather  may  be 
termed  a  letter  to  me.    Here  is  a  copy  of  it : 

My  dear  Tom:  You  will  find  your  fortune  between  a  couple  of 
sheets  of  paper  in  the  library. 

Your  affectionate  uncle, 
Reginald  Moran,  Earl  of  Chizelrigi^. 

"  I  should  doubt  if  that  were  a  legal  will,"  said  I. 
"  It  doesn't  need  to  be,"  replied  the  young  man  vvitli 

140 


O  My  Prophetic  Soul,  My  Uncle! 


I 


a  smile.    "  I  am  next  of  kin,  and  heir  to  everything  he 
l)ossessed,  although,  of  course,  he  might  have  given  his 
money  elsewhere  if  he  had  chosen  to  do  so.    Why  he  did 
not  bequeath  it  to  some  institution,  I  do  not  know.    He 
knew  no  man  personally  except  his  own  servants,  whom 
he  misused  and  starved ;  but,  as  he  told  them,  he  mis- 
used and  starved  himself,  so  they  had  no  cause  to  grum- 
ble.   He  said  he  was  treating  them  like  one  of  the  family. 
I  suppose  he  thought  it  would  cause  me  more  worry 
and  anxiety  if  he  concealed  the  money,  and  put  me  on 
the  wrong  scent,  which  I  am  convinced  he  has  done, 
than  to  leave  it  openly  to  any  person  or  charity." 
"  I  need  not  ask  if  you  have  searched  the  library?  " 
"  Searched  it  ?    Why,  there  never  was  such  a  search 
smce  the  world  began !  " 

"  Possibly  you  put  the  task  into  incompetent  hands  ?  " 
"You  are  hinting.   Monsieur  Valmont,   that   I   en- 
gaged others  until  my  money  was  gone,  then  came  to  you 
with  a  speculative  proposal,     ^.t  ....  assure  you  such 
is  not  the  case.     Incompetent  hands,  I  grant  you,  but 
the  hands  were  my  own.    For  thr  past  six  months  I  have 
lived  practically  as  my  uncle  li\ed.     I  have  rummaged 
that  library  from  floor  to  ceiling.    It  was  left  in  a  fright- 
ful state,   littered   with  old   newspapers,  accounts,  and 
what  not.     Then,  of  course,  there  were  the  books  re- 
maining in  the  library,  still  a  formidable  collection." 
"  Was  your  uncle  a  religious  man  ?  " 
"  I  could  not  say.     I  surmise  not.     You  see,  I  was 
unacquainted  with  him,  and  never  saw  him  until  after 
his  death.     I  fancy  he  was  not  religious,  otherwise  he 

141 


53 


ma 


The  Triumphs  of  Eugene  Valmont 


I 

■r 


could  not  have  acted  as  he  did.  Still,  he  proved  himself 
a  man  of  such  twisted  mentality  that  anything  is  pos- 
sible." 

"  I  knew  a  case  once  where  an  heir  who  expected  a 
large  sum  of  money  was  bequeathed  a  family  Bible, 
which  he  threw  into  the  fire,  learning  afterwards,  to 
his  dismay,  that  it  contained  many  thousands  of  pounds 
in  Bank  of  Eng.and  notes,  the  object  of  the  devisor 
being  to  induce  the  legatee  to  read  the  good  Book  or 
suffer  through  the  neglect  of  it." 

"  I  have  searched  the  scriptures,"  said  the  youthful 
earl  with  a  laugh,  "  but  the  benefit  has  been  moral  rather 
than  material." 

'•  Is  there  any  chance  that  your  uncle  has  deposited 
his  wealth  in  a  bank,  and  has  written  a  check  for  the 
amount,  leaving  it  between  two  leaves  of  a  book? " 

"Anything  is  possible,  monsieur,  but  I  think  that 
highly  improbable.  I  have  go-  through  every  tome, 
page  by  page,  and  I  suspect  y  few  of  the  volumes 
have  been  opened  for  the  last    wenty  years." 

"How  much  money  do  you  estimate  he  accumu- 
lated?" 

"  He  must  have  cleared  more  than  a  hundrtd  thou- 
sand pounds,  but  speaking  of  banking  it,  I  would  like 
to  say  ihat  my  uncle  evinced  a  deep  distrust  of  banks, 
and  never  drew  a  check  in  his  life,  so  far  as  I  am  aware. 
All  accounts  were  paid  in  gold  by  his  old  steward,  who 
first  brought  the  receipted  bill  in  to  my  uncle,  and  then 
received  the  exact  amount,  after  having  left  the  room, 
and  waited  until  he  was  rung  for,  so  that  he  might  not 

142 


O  My  Prophetic  Soul,  My  Uncle! 


learn  the  repository  from  which  my  uncle  drew  his  store, 
I  believe  if  the  money  is  ever  found  it  will  be  in  gold, 
and  I  am  very  sure  that  this  will  was  written,  if  we  may 
call  it  a  will,  to  put  us  on  the  wrong  scent." 

"  Have  you  had  the  library  cleared  out  ?  " 

"  Oh,  no ;  it  is  practically  as  my  uncle  left  it.  I  real- 
ized that  if  I  were  to  call  in  help,  it  would  be  well  that 
the  newcomer  found  it  undisturbed." 

"  You  were  quite  right,  my  lord.  You  say  you  exam- 
ined all  the  papers?  " 

"  Yes ;  so  far  as  that  is  concerned,  the  room  has  been 
very  fairly  gone  over,  but  nothing  that  was  in  it  the  day 
my  uncle  died  has  been  removed,  not  even  his  anvil." 

"His  anvil?" 

"Yes;  I  told  you  he  made  a  blacksmith's  shop,  as 
well  as  bedroom,  of  the  library.  It  is  a  huge  room,  with 
a  great  fireplace  at  one  end  which  formed  an  excellent 
forge.  He  and  ine  steward  built  the  forge  in  the  eastern 
fireplace,  of  brick  and  clay,  with  their  own  hands,  and 
erected  there  a  secondhand  blacksmith's  bellows." 

"  What  work  did  he  do  at  his  forge?  " 

"Oh,  anything  that  was  required  about  the  place. 
He  seems  to  have  been  a  very  expert  ironworker.  He 
would  never  buy  a  new  implement  for  the  garden  or  the 
house  so  long  as  he  could  get  one  secondhand,  and  he 
never  bought  anything  secondhand  while  at  his  forge  he 
might  repair  what  was  already  in  use.  He  kept  an  old 
cob,  on  which  he  used  to  ride  through  the  park,  and 
he  always  put  the  shoes  on  this  cob  himself,  the  stew- 
ard inforuib  me,  so  he  must  have  understood  the  use 

143 


r5 


jj.mjBm,.  .r'nrap 


The  Triumphs  of  Eugene  Valmont 


I    ■ 


'.)t  !)lacksmith's  tools.  He  made  a  carpenter's  shop  of 
tIk  hief  drawing-room  and  erected  a  bench  there.  I 
tl  n.'.  a  very  useful  mechanic  was  spoiled  when  my  uncle 
1)<  <u  lie  an  earl." 

Vou  hrve  been  living  at  the  Chase  since  your  uncle 

died .''  " 

"  ir  call  it  living,  yes.     The  old  steward  and 

his  .  .a  Seen  looking  after  me,  as  they  looked  after 
ni/  uru!>'  ,d,  seeing  me  day  after  day,  coatless,  and 
covcrcti  vuth  dust,  I  imagine  they  think  me  a  second 
edition  of  ihe  old  man." 

"  Does  the  steward  know  the  money  is  missing?" 

"  No ;  no  one  knows  it  but  myself.  This  will  was 
left  on  the  anvil,  in  an  envelope  addressed  to  me." 

"  Your  statement  is  exceedingly  clear,  Lord  Chizel- 
rigg,  but  I  confess  I  don't  see  much  daylight  through  it. 
Is  there  a  pleasant  country  around  Chizelrigg  Chase?  " 

"Very;  especially  at  this  season  of  the  year.  In 
autumn  and  winter  ♦he  house  is  a  little  draughty.  It 
needs  several  thousand  pounds  to  put  it  in  repair." 

"  Draughts  do  not  matter  in  the  summer.  I  have 
been  long  enough  in  England  not  to  share  the  fear  of 
my  countrymen  for  a  courant  d'air.  Is  there  a  spare 
ted  in  the  manor  house,  or  shall  I  take  down  a  cot  with 
me,  or  let  us  say  a  hammock  ?  " 

"  Really,"  stammered  the  earl,  blushing  again,  "  you 
must  not  think  I  detailed  all  these  circumstances  in  order 
to  influence  you  to  take  up  what  may  be  a  hopeless  case. 
I,  of  course,  am  deeply  interested,  and,  therefore,  some- 
what prone  to  be  carried  away  when  I  begin  a  recital 

J44 


Jm 


OMy  Prophetic  Soul,  My  Uncle/  " 


of  my  uncles  eccentricities.     If  i   receive  your  jnirmis- 
sion,  I  will  call  on  you  again  in  a  month  or  two.    To  tell 
you  the  truth.  I  borrowed  a  little  money  from  the  old 
steward,  and  visited  London  to  see  my  legal  advisers, 
hoping  that  in  the  circumstances  I  may  grt  {Hjrmission  to 
s^U  something  that  will  kocp  me  from  starvation.    When 
I  spoke  of  the  house  being  denuded,  I  nuant  relatively, 
of  ctnirsc.     There  are  still  a  good  many  antiquities  which 
would    doubtless   bring   me    in   a   comfortable    sum    of 
money.    I  have  been  borne  rp  by  the  belief  that  I  should 
find  my  uncle's  gold.     Lately  I  have  been  beset  by  a 
suspicion  that  the  old  gentleman  thouijht  the  librarv  the 
only  valuable  asset  left,  and  for  this  reason  wrote  his 
note,  thinking  I  would  be  afraid  to  sell  anything  from 
that  room.     The  old  rascal  must  have  made  a  pot  of 
money  out  of  those  shelves.     The  catalogue  shows  that 
there  was  a  copy  of  the  first  book  printed  in  Englanrl 
by  Caxton,  and  several  priceless  Shak  spearcs,  as  well 
as  many  other  volumes  that  a  collector  would  give  a 
small  fortune  for.    All  these  p.re  gone.     I  think  when  I 
show  this  to  be  the  case,  the  authorities  .  a.mot  refuse 
me  the  right  to  sell  something,  and,  if  1  gc    this  permis- 
sion, I  shall  at  once  call  upon  you." 

"  Nonsense,  Lord  Chizelrigg.  Put  y.,ur  application 
in  motion,  if  you  like.  Meanwhile.  I  beg  of  you  to  look 
upon  me  as  a  more  substantial  banker  than  your  old  stew- 
ard. Let  us  enjoy  a  good  dinner  together  at  the  Cecil 
to-night,  if  you  will  do  me  the  honor  to  be  my  guest. 
To-morrow  wc  can  leave  fur  Chizelrigg  Chase.  How 
far  is  it  ?  " 

145 


IFX 


i^^m 


TV 


\r^ 


<F¥>% 


The  Triumphs  of  Eugene  Valmont 


•I, 


"  About  three  hours,"  replied  the  young  man,  be- 
coming as  red  as  a  new  Queen  Anne  villa.  "  Really, 
Monsieur  Valmont,  you  overwhelm  me  with  your  kind- 
ness, but  nevertheless  I  accept  your  generous  offer." 

"Then  that's  settled.  What's  the  name  of  the  old 
steward  ? " 

"  Higgins." 

"  You  are  certain  he  has  no  knowledge  of  the  hid- 
ing-place of  this  treasure?" 

"  Oh,  quite  sure.  My  uncle  was  not  a  man  to  make 
a  confidant  of  anyone,  least  of  all  an  old  babbler  like 
Higgins." 

"  Well,  I  should  like  to  be  introduced  to  Higgins 
as  a  benighted  foreigner.  That  will  make  him  despise 
me,  and  treat  me  like  a  child." 

"Oh,  I  say,"  protested  the  earl,  "I  should  have 
thought  you'd  lived  long  enough  in  England  to  have 
got  out  of  the  notion  that  we  do  not  appreciate  the  for- 
eigner. Indeed,  we  are  the  only  nation  in  the  world 
that  extends  a  cordial  welcome  to  him,  rich  or  poor." 

"  Certainement,  my  lord,  I  should  be  deeply  disap- 
pointed did  you  not  take  me  at  my  proper  valuation,  but 
I  cherish  no  delusions  regarding  the  contempt  with 
which  Higgins  will  regard  me.  He  will  look  upon  me 
as  a  sort  of  simpleton  to  whom  the  Lord  has  been  un- 
kind by  not  making  England  my  native  land.  Now, 
Higgins  must  be  led  to  believe  that  I  am  in  his  own 
class;  that  is,  a  servant  of  yours.  Higgins  and  I  will 
gossip  over  the  fire  together,  should  these  spring  even- 
ings prove  chilly,  and  before  two  or  three  weeks  are  past 

146 


O  My  Prophetic  Soul,  My  Uncle/ 


I  shall  have  learned  a  great  deal  about  your  uncle  that 
you  never  dreamed  of.  Higgins  will  talk  more  freely 
with  a  fellow-servant  than  with  his  master,  however 
much  he  may  respect  that  master,  and  then,  as  I  am  a 
foreigner,  he  will  babble  down  to  my  comprehension, 
and  I  shall  get  details  that  he  never  would  think  of 
giving  to  a  fellow-countryman." 


^2 


H7 


CHAPTER  XII 


LORD    CIIIZLLRIGO'S     MISSING     FORTUNE 


jHE  young  earl's  modesty  in  such  description 
of  his  home  as  he  had  given  me  left  me 
totally   unprepared   for  the  grandeur   of 
the    mansion,    one   corner    of    which    he 
inhabited.    It  is  such  a  place  as  you  read 
of  in  romances  of  the  Middle  Ages;  not  a  pinnacled 
or  turreted  French  chateau  of  that  period,  but  a  beauti- 
ful and  substantial  stone  manor  house  of  a  ruddy  color, 
whose  warm  hue  seemed  to  add  a  softness  to  the  severit> 
of  its  architecture.     It  is  built  round  an  outer  and  an 
inner  courtyard,  and  could  house  a  thousand,  rather  than 
the  hundred  with  which  its  owner  had  accredited  it. 
There  are  many  stone-mullioned  windows,  and  one  at 
the  end  of  the  library  might  well  have  graced  a  cathedral. 
This  superb  residence  occupies  the  center  of  a  heavily 
tin.hered  park,  and  from  the  lodge  at  the  gates  we  drove 
at  least  a  mile  and  a  half  under  the  grandest  avenue  of 
old  oaks  I  have  ever  seen.    It  seemed  incredible  that  the 
owner  of  all  this  should  actually  lack  the  ready  money 
to  pay  his  fare  to  town ! 

Old  Higgins  met  us  at  the  station  with  a  somewhat 
rickety  cart,  to  which  was  attached  the  ancient  cob  that 
the  late  earl  used  to  shoe.     We  entered  a  noble  hall, 

148 


*••  A 


Lord  Chizelrigg's  Missing  Fortune 


which  probably  looked  the  larger  because  of  the  en- 
tire absence  of  any  kind  of  furniture,  unless  two  com- 
plete suits  of  venerable  armor  which  stood  on  either 
hand  might  be  considered  as  furnishing.  I  laughed 
aloud  when  the  door  was  shut,  and  the  sound  echoed 
like  the  merriment  of  ghosts  from  the  dim  timbered  roof 
above  me. 

"  What  are  you  laughing  at?  "  asked  the  earl. 

"  I  am  laughing  to  see  you  put  your  modern  tall  hat 
on  that  mediaeval  helmet." 

"Oh,  that's  it!  Well,  put  yours  on  the  other.  I 
mean  no  disrespect  to  the  ancestor  who  wore  this  suit, 
but  we  are  short  of  the  harmless,  necessary  hatrack, 
so  I  put  my  topper  on  the  antique  helmet,  and  thrust 
the  umbrella  (if  I  have  one)  in  behind  here,  and  down 
one  of  his  legs.  Since  I  came  in  possession,  a  very 
crafty-looking  dealer  from  London  visited  me,  and  at- 
tempted to  sound  me  regarding  the  sale  of  these  suits 
of  armor.  I  gathered  he  would  give  enough  money 
to  keep  me  in  new  suits,  London  made,  for  the 
rest  of  my  life,  but  when  I  endeavored  to  find  out  if  he 
had  had  commercial  dealings  with  my  prophetic  uncle, 
he  became  frightened  and  bolted,  I  imagine  that  if  I 
had  possessed  presence  of  mind  enough  to  have  lured 
him  into  one  of  our  most  uncomfortable  dungeons,  I 
might  have  learned  where  some  of  the  family  treasures 
went  to.  Come  up  these  stairs,  Monsieur  Valmont,  and 
I  will  show  you  your  room." 

We  had  lunched  on  the  train  coming  down,  so  after 
a  wash  in  my  own  room  I  proceeded  at  once  to  inspect 

149 


•5 


C: 


■2 

5:0 


T^'V 


The  Triumphs  of  Eugene  Valmont 


I 

m-, 
an 


the  library.    It  proved,  indeed,  a  most  noble  apartment, 
and  it  had  been  scandalously  used  by  the  old  reprobate, 
its  late  tenant.     There  were  two  huge  fireplaces,  one 
m  the  middle  ri  the  north  wall  and  the  other  at  the 
eastern  end.    In  the  latter  had  been  erected  a  rude  brick- 
forge,  and  beside  the  forge  hung  a  great  black  bellows, 
smoky  with  usage.     On  a  wooden  block  lay  the  anvil, 
and  around  it  rested  and  rusted  several  hammers,  large 
and  small.    At  the  western  end  was  a  glorious  window 
filled  with  ancient  stained  glass,  which,  as  I  have  said, 
ri'ght  have  adorned  a  cathedral.    Extensive  as  the  col- 
lection of  books  was,  the  great  size  of  this  chamber 
made  it  necessary  that  only  the   outside   wall  should 
be  covered  with  bookcases,  and  even  these  were  divided 
by  tall  windows.    The  opposite  wall  was  blank,  with  tlie 
exception  of  a  picture  here  and  there,  and  these  pic- 
tures oflfered  a  further  insult  to  the  room,  for  they  were 
cheap  prints,  mostly  colored  lithographs  that  had  ap- 
peared in  Christmas  numbers  of  London  weekly  journals 
incased  in  poverty-stricken  frames,  hanging  from  nails 
ruthlessly  driven  in  above  them.     The  floor  was  cov- 
ered with  a  litter  of  papers,  in  some  places  knee-deep, 
and  in  the  corner  farthest  from  the  forge  still  stood  the 
bed  on  which  the  ancient  miser  had  died. 

"Looks  like  a  stable,  doesn't  it?"  commented  the 
earl,  when  I  had  finished  my  inspection.  "  I  am  sure 
the  old  boy  simply  filled  it  up  with  this  rubbish  to  give 
me  the  trouble  of  examining  it.  Higgins  tells  me  that 
up  to  within  a  month  before  he  died  the  room  was  rea- 
sonably clear  of  all  this  muck.    Of  course  it  had  to  be, 

150 


Lord  Chizelrigg's  Missing  Fortune 


or  the  place  would  have,  caught  fire  from  the  sparks 
of  the  forge.  The  old  man  made  Higgins  gather  all  the 
papers  he  could  find  anywhere  about  the  place,  ancient 
accounts,  newspapers,  and  what  not,  even  to  the  brown 
wrapping  paper  you  see,  in  which  parcels  came,  and  com- 
manded him  to  strew  the  floor  with  this  litter,  because, 
as  he  complained,  Higgins's  boots  on  the  boards  made 
too  much  noise,  and  Higgins,  who  is  not  in  the  least 
of  an  inquiring  mind,  accepted  this  explanation  as  en- 
tirely meeting  the  case." 

Higgins  proved  to  be  a  garrulous  old  fellow,  who 
needed  no  urging  to  talk  about  the  late  earl;  indeed, 
it  was  almost  impossible  to  deflect  his  conversation  into 
any  other  channel.     Twenty  years'  intimacy  with  the 
eccentric  nobleman  had  largely  obliterated  that  sense  of 
deference  with  which  an  English  servant  usually  ap- 
proaches his  master.     An  English  underling's  idea  of 
nobility  is  the  man  who  never  by  any  possibility  works 
with  his  hands.    The  fact  that  Lord  Chizelrigg  had  toiled 
at   the   carpenter's   bench;   had   mixed   cement    in   the 
drawing-room;   had  caused  the   anvil   to   ring  ou'    till 
midnight,   aroused   no   admiration   in    Higgins's    i    ad. 
In  addition  to  this,  the  ancient  nobleman  had  been  penu 
riously  strict  in  his  examination  of  accounts,  exacting 
the  uttermost  farthing,  so  the  humble  servitor  regarded 
his  memory  with  supreme  contempt.     I  realized  before 
the  drive  was  finished  from  the  station  to  Chizelrigg 
Chase  that  there  was  little  use  of  introducing  me  to  Hig- 
gins as  a  foreigner  and  a  fellow-servant.     I  found  mv- 
self  completely  unable  to  understand  what  the  old  f-llow 

151 


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5 


r 


•5 


The  Triumphs  of  Eugene  Valmont 


I 


said.  His  dialect  was  as  unknown  to  me  as  the  Choctaw 
language  would  have  been,  and  the  young  earl  was 
compelled  to  act  as  interpreter  on  the  occasions  when 
we  set  this  garrulous  talking  machine  going. 

The  new  Earl  of  Chizelrigg,  with  the  enthusiasm  of 
a  boy,  proclaimed  himself  my  pupil  and  assistant,  and 
said  he  would  do  whatever  he  was  told.  His  thorough 
and  fruitless  search  of  the  library  had  convinced  him 
that  the  old  man  was  merely  chaffing  him,  as  he  put  it, 
by  leaving  such  a  letter  as  he  had  written.  His  lordship 
was  certain  that  the  money  had  been  hidden  somewhere 
else ;  probably  buried  under  one  of  the  trees  in  the  park. 
Of  course,  this  was  possible,  and  represented  the  usual 
method  by  which  a  stupid  person  conceals  treasure,  yel 
I  did  not  think  it  probable.  All  conversations  with  Hig- 
gins  showed  the  earl  to  have  been  an  extremely  suspi- 
cious man ;  suspicious  of  banks,  suspicious  even  of  Bank 
of  England  notes,  suspicious  of  every  person  on  earth. 
not  omitting  Higgins  himself.  Therefore,  as  I  told  his 
nephew,  the  miser  would  never  allow  the  fortune  out  of 
his  sight  and  immediate  reach. 

From  the  first  the  oddity  of  the  forge  and  anvil  bein<,' 
placed  in  his  bedroom  struck  me  as  peculiar,  and  I  said 
to  the  }  oung  man  : 

"  I'll  stake  my  reputation  that  that  forge  or  anvil,  or 
both,  contain  the  secret.  You  see,  the  old  gentleman 
worked  sometimes  till  midnight,  for  Higgins  could  hear 
his  hammering.  H  he  used  hard  coal  on  the  forge,  tlie 
fire  would  last  through  the  night,  and  being  in  continual 
terror  of  thieves,  as  Higgins  says,  barricading  the  castle 

152 


«."•-«• 


VKW*  ^Wt.  M 


Lord  Chizelrigg's  Missing  Fortune 


every  evening  before  dark,  as  if  it  were  a  fortress,  he  was 
bound  to  place  the  treasure  in  the  most  unHkely  spot  for 
a  thief  to  get  at  it.     Now,  the  coal  fire  smoldered  alt 
night  long,  and  if  the  gold  was  in  the  forge  underneath 
the  embers,  it  would  be  extremely  difficult  to  get  at. 
A  robber  rummaging  in  the  dark  would  burn  his  fingers 
in  more  senses  than  one.    Then,  as  his  lordship  kept  no 
less  than  four  loaded  revolvers  under  his  pillow,  all  he 
had  to  do,  if  a  thief  entered  his  room,  was  to  allow  the 
search  to  go  on  until  the  thief  started  at  the  forge,  then, 
doubtless,  as  he  had  the  range  with  reasonable  accuracy, 
night  or  day,  he  might  sit  up  in  bed  and  blaze  away 
with  revolver  after  revolver.    There  were  twenty-eight 
shots  that  could  be  fired  in  about  double  as  many  sec- 
onds, so  you  see  the  robber  stood  little  chance  in  the 
face  of  such  a  fusillade.    I  propose  that  we  dismantle  the 
forge." 

Lord  Chizelrigg  was  much  taken  by  my  reasoning, 
and  one  morning  early  we  cut  down  the  big  bellows! 
tore  it  open,  found  it  empty,  then  took  brick  after  brick 
from  the  forge  with  a  crowbar,  for  the  old  man  had 
builded  better  than  he  knew  with  Portland  cement.  In 
fact,  when  we  cleared  away  the  rubbish  between  the 
bricks  and  the  core  of  the  furnace  we  came  upon  one 
cube  of  cement  which  was  as  hard  as  granite.  With 
the  aid  of  Higgins,  and  a  set  of  rollers  and  levers,  we 
managed  to  get  this  block  out  into  the  park,  and  at- 
tempted to  crush  it  with  the  sledge  hammers  belonging 
to  the  forge,  in  which  we  were  entirely  unsuccessful. 
The  more  it  resisted  our  eflforts,  the  more  certain  we  be- 
"  153 


i 


I 


fsri^m 


The  Triumphs  of  Eugene  Valmont 


I 

r 


r 

••I 

«: 


came  that  the  coins  would  be  found  within  it.  As  this 
would  not  be  treasure-trove  in  the  sense  that  the  Gov- 
ernment might  make  a  claim  upon  it,  there  was  no  par- 
ticular necessity  for  secrecy,  so  we  had  up  a  man  from 
the  mines  near  by  with  drills  and  dynamite,  who  speedily 
shattered  the  block  into  a  million  pieces,  more  or  less. 
Alas !  there  was  no  trace  in  its  debris  of  "  pay  dirt,"  as 
the  western  miner  puts  it.  While  the  dynamite  expert 
was  on  the  spot,  we  induced  him  to  shatter  the  anvil 
as  well  as  the  block  of  cement,  and  then  the  workman, 
doubtless  thinking  the  new  earl  was  as  insane  as  the 
old  one  had  been,  shouldered  his  tools  and  went  back  to 
his  mine. 

The  earl  reverted  to  his  former  opinion  that  the 
gold  was  concealed  in  the  park,  while  I  held  even  more 
firmly  to  my  own  belief  that  the  fortune  rested  in  tlie 
library. 

"  It  is  obvious,"  I  said  to  him,  "  that  if  the  treasure 
is  buried  outside,  some  one  must  have  dug  the  hole.  A 
man  so  timorous  and  so  reticent  as  your  uncle  would 
allow  no  one  to  do  this  but  himself.  Higgins  maintained 
the  other  evening  that  all  picks  and  spades  were  safely 
locked  up  by  himself  each  night  in  the  tool  house.  1  he 
mansion  itself  was  barricaded  wi^'"  such  exceeding  care 
that  it  would  have  been  difficult  ■  •  your  uncle  to  get 
outside  even  if  he  wished  to  do  so.  Then  such  a  man 
as  your  uncle  is  described  to  have  been  would  contin- 
ually desire  ocular  demonstration  that  his  savings  were 
intact,  which  would  be  practically  impossible  if  the  gold 
had  found  a  grave  in  the  park     I  propose  now  that 

154 


Lord  Chizelrigg's  Missing  Fortune 


we  abandon  violence  and  dynamite,  and     roceed  to  an 
intellectual  search  of  the  library." 

"  Very  well,"  replied  the  young  earl ;  "  but  as  I  have 
already  searched  the  library  very  thoroughly,  your  use 
of  the  word  '  intellectual,'  Monsieur  Valmont,  is  not  in 
accord  with  your  customary  politeness.  However.  I  am 
with  you.    'Tis  for  you  to  command,  and  me  to  obey." 

"  Pardon  me,  my  lord,"  I  said,  "  I  used  the  word  '  in- 
tellectual' in  contradistinction  to  the  word  'dynamite.' 
It  had  no  reference  to  your  former  search.  I  merely 
propose  that  we  now  abandon  the  use  of  chemical  re- 
action, and  employ  the  much  greater  force  of  mental 
activity.  Did  you  notice  any  writing  on  the  margins  of 
the  newspapers  you  examined  ?  " 
"  No,  I  did  not." 

"Is  it  possible  that  there  may  have  been  some  com- 
munication on  the  white  border  of  a  newspaper?" 
"  It  is,  of  course,  possible." 

"  Then  will  you  set  yourself  to  the  task  of  glancing 
over  ilic  margin  of  every  newspaper,  piling  them  away 
m  another  room  when  your  scrutiny  of  each  is  complete? 
Do  not  destroy  anything,  but  we  must  clear  out  the 
library  completely.  I  am  interested  in  the  accounts,  and 
will  examine  them." 

It  was  exasperatingly  tedious  work;  but  after  several 
days  my  assistant  reported  every  margin  scanned  with- 
out result,  while  I  had  collected  each  bill  and  memo- 
randum, classifying  them  according  to  date.  I  could  not 
get  rid  of  a  suspicion  that  the  contrary  old  beast  had 
written  instructions  for  the  finding  of  the  treasure  on 

155 


■2 

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The  Triumphs  of  Eugene  Valmont 


C 


I 

•>1 


r 

lu.. 

c 


the  back  of  some  account,  or  on  the  flyleaf  of  a  book,  and 
as  I  looked  at  the  thousands  of  volumes  still  left  in  the 
library,  the  prospect  of  such  a  patient  and  minute  searcli 
appalled  me.  But  I  remembered  Edison's  words  to  the 
effect  that  if  a  thing  exists,  search,  exhaustive  enough, 
will  find  it.  From  the  mass  of  accounts  I  selected 
several ;  the  rest  I  placed  in  another  room,  alongside  the 
heap  of  the  earl's  newspapers. 

••  Now,"  said  I  to  my  helper,  "if  it  please  you,  we 
will  have  Higgins  in,  as  I  wish  some  explanation  of  these 
accounts." 

"  Perhaps  I  can  assist  you,"  suggested  his  lordship, 
drawing  up  a  chair  opposite  the  table  on  which  I  had 
spread  ♦he  statements.  "  I  have  lived  here  for  six 
months,  and  know  as  much  about  things  as  Higgins  does. 
He  is  so  difficult  to  stop  when  once  he  begins  to  talk. 
What  is  the  first  account  you  wish  further  light  upon?  ■ 

"  To  go  back  thirteen  years,  I  find  that  your  uncle 
bought  a  secondhand  safe  in  Sheffield.  Here  is  the  bill. 
I  consider  it  necessary  to  find  that  safe." 

"  Pray  forgive  me,  Monsieur  Valmont,"  cried  the 
young  man,  springing  to  his  feet  and  laughing ;  "  so 
heavy  an  article  as  a  safe  should  not  slip  readily  from 
a  man's  memory,  but  it  did  from  mine.  The  safe  is 
empty,  and  I  gave  no  more  thought  to  it." 

Saying  this,  the  earl  went  to  one  of  the  bookcases 
that  stood  against  the  wall,  pulled  it  round  as  if  it  were 
a  door,  books  and  all,  and  displayed  the  front  of  an 
iron  safe,  the  door  of  which  he  also  drew  open,  exhibit- 
ing the  usual  empty  interior  of  such  a  receptacle. 

156 


Lord  Chizeirigg's  Missing  Fortune 


"  I  came  on  this,"  he  said,  "  when  I  took  down  all 
these  volumes.  It  appears  that  there  was  onte  a  secret 
door  leading  from  the  library  into  an  outside  room, 
which  has  long  since  disappeared:  the  walls  are  very 
thick.  My  uncle  doubtless  caused  this  door  to  be  uken 
off  its  hinges,  and  the  safe  placed  in  the  aperture,  the 
rest  of  which  he  then  bricked  up." 

"  Quite  so,"  said  I,  endeavoring  to  conceal  my  dis- 
appointment. "  As  this  strong  box  was  bought  second- 
hand and  not  made  to  order,  I  suppose  there  can  be  no 
secret  crannies  in  it  ?  " 

"  It  looks  like  a  common  or  garden  safe,"  reported 
my  assistant,  "  but  well  have  it  out  if  you  say  so." 

"  Not  just  now,"  I  replied ;  "  we've  had  enough  of 
dynamiting  to  make  us  feel  like  housebreakers  already." 
"  I  agree  with  you.    What's  tiie  next  item  on  the  pro- 
gramme? " 

"Your  uncle's  mania  for  bitving  things  at  second 
hand  was  broken  in  three  instances  so  far  as  I  have 
been  able  to  learn  from  a  scrutiny  of  these  accounts. 
About  four  years  ago  he  purchased  a  new  book  from 
Denny  &  Co.,  the  well-known  booksellers  of  the  Strand. 
Denny  &  Co.  deal  only  in  new  books.  Is  there  any  com 
paratively  new  volume  in  the  library  ?  " 
"  Not  one." 

"  Are  you  sure  of  that  ?  " 

"  Oh,  quite ;  I  searched  all  the  literature  in  the  house. 
What  IS  the  name  of  the  volume  he  bought  ?  " 

"That  I  cannot  decipher.     The  initial  letter  looks 
like  '  M,'  but  the  rest  is  a  mere  wavy  line.    I  see,  how- 

157 


i 


t 
I 


r 


The  Triumphs  of  Eugene  Valmont 

ever,  that  it  cost  twelve-aml-sixiKncc,  while  the  cost  of 
carriage  by  parcel  post  was  sixi)cnce,  which  shows  it 
weighed  something  under  four  pounds.  This,  with  the 
price  of  the  bocjk,  induces  me  to  think  it  was  a  scientific 
work,  printed  on  heavy  pai>er  and  illustrated  " 

"  I  know  nothing  of  it,"  said  the  carl, 

"  The  third  account  is  for  wall  paper ;  twenty-seven 
rolls  of  an  expensive  wall  paper,  and  twenty-seven  rolls 
of  a  cheap  paper,  the  latter  being  just  half  the  price 
of  the  former.  This  wall  paper  seems  to  have  been  suj)- 
plied  by  a  tradesman  in  the  station  road  in  the  village  of 
Chizelrigg." 

"  There's  your  wall  paper,"  cried  the  youth,  waving 
his  hard;  "he  was  going  to  paper  the  whole  house. 
Higgins  told  me,  but  got  tired  after  he  had  finished 
the  library,  which  took  him  nearly  a  year  to  accomplish, 
for  he  worked  at  it  very  intermittently,  mixing  the  paste 
in  the  boudoir,  a  pailful  at  a  time,  as  he  needed  it.  It 
was  a  scandalous  thing  to  do,  for  underneath  the  paper 
is  the  most  exquisite  oak  paneling,  very  plain,  but  very 
rich  in  color." 

I  rose  and  examined  the  paper  on  the  wall.  It  was 
dark  brown,  and  answered  the  description  of  the  ex- 
pensive paper  on  the  bill. 

"  What  became  of  the  cheap  paper  ?  "  I  asked. 

"  I  don't  know." 

"  I  think,"  said  I,  "  we  are  on  the  track  of  the  mys- 
tery. I  believe  that  paper  covers  a  sliding  panel  or  con- 
cealed door." 

"  It  is  very  likclv,"  replied  the  carl.    "  I  intended  to 

158 


Lord  Chtzelrigg's  Missing  Fortune 


have  the  paper  off,  but  I  had  no  money  to  i  a  work- 
man, and  I  am  not  so  industrious  as  wa^  my  uncle. 
What  is  your  remaining  account  ?  " 

"  The  last  also  pertains  to  paper,  but  comes  from 
a  firm  in  Budge  Row,  London,  E.C.  He  has  had,  it 
seems,  a  thousand  sheets  of  it,  and  it  appears  to  have 
been  frightfully  expensive.  This  bill  is  also  illegible,  but 
I  take  it  a  thousati  I  sheets  were  supplied,  although,  of 
course,  it  may  h'.v,c  Ixrn  a  thousand  quires,  which  would 
be  a  little  more  rcaso!  -i1)le  for  the  price  charged,  or  a 
thousand  reams,  which  would  Le  exceedingly  cheap." 

"  I  don't  know  anythinj,'  about  that.  Let's  turn  on 
Higgins." 

Higgins  knew  nothing  of  this  last  order  of  paper 
either.  The  wall-paper  mystery  he  at  once  cleared  up. 
Apparently  the  old  earl  had  discovered  by  experiment 
that  the  heavy,  expensive  wall  paper  would  not  .-v  v  v 
to  the  glossy  paneling,  so  he  had  purchased  a  c!  <:  per 
paper,  and  had  pasted  that  on  first.  Higgins  said  h^  '  't 
gone  all  over  the  paneling  with  a  yellowish-white  p.  f :  •, 
and  after  that  was  dry  he  pasted  over  it  the  more  exptr 
sive  rolls. 

"  But,"  I  objected,  "  the  two  papers  were  bought  and 
delivered  at  the  same  time ;  therefore  he  could  not  have 
found  by  experiment  that  the  heavy  paper  would  not 
stick." 

"  I  don't  think  there  is  much  in  that,"  commented  the 
earl ;  "  the  heavy  paper  may  have  been  bought  first,  and 
found  to  be  unsuitable,  and  then  the  coarse,  cheap  paper 
bought  afterwards.    The  bill  merely  shows  that  the  ac- 

159 


5 


5 


The  Triumphs  of  Eugene  Valmont 


r 


count  was  sent  in  on  that  date.  Indeed,  as  the  village 
of  Chizelrigg  is  but  a  few  miles  away,  it  would  have 
been  quite  possible  for  my  uncle  to  have  bought  the 
heavy  paper  in  the  morning,  tried  it,  and  in  the  after- 
noon sent  for  the  commoner  lot ;  but,  in  any  case,  the  bill 
would  not  have  been  presented  until  months  after  the 
order,  and  the  two  purchases  were  thus  lumped  to- 
gether." 

I  was  forced  to  confess  that  this  seemed  reasonable. 

Now,  about  the  book  ordered  from  Denny's.  Did 
Higgins  remember  anything  regarding  it?  It  came  four 
years  ago. 

Ah,  yes,  Higgins  did;  he  remembered  it  very  well 
indeed.  He  had  come  in  one  morning  with  the  earl's  tea, 
and  the  old  man  was  sitting  up  in  bed  reading  this  vol- 
ume with  such  ir  >t  that  he  was  unaware  of  Higgins's 
knock,  and  Higgins  himself,  being  a  little  hard  of  hear- 
ing, took  for  granted  the  command  to  enter.  The  earl 
hastily  thrust  the  book  under  the  pillow,  alongside  the 
revolvers,  and  rated  Higgins  in  a  most  cruel  way  for 
entering  the  room  before  getting  permission  to  do  so. 
He  had  never  seen  the  earl  so  angry  before,  and  he  laid 
it  all  to  this  book.  It  was  after  the  book  had  come 
that  the  forge  had  been  erected  and  the  anvil  bought. 
Higgins  never  saw  the  book  again,  but  one  morning, 
six  months  before  the  earl  died,  Higgins,  in  raking  out 
the  cinders  of  the  forge,  found  what  he  supposed  was  a 
portion  of  the  book's  cover.  He  believed  his  master  had 
burned  the  volume. 

Having  dismissed  Higgins,  I  said  to  the  earl : 

i6o 


5 


;■■»-;■.:■»  it.*  i-i;-i>.v':';i«^!;:      WWI^A^SJTlUtliyvr, 


i,<-\  •!■  1'  ■ 


m 


•i7-'Tr.:.'».'«*ii.. ' 


"^SKSfkil 


S: 


-:'^^^['-'^ 


■J:'i^i.\?<Y:- 


>}imd 


Lord  Chizelrigg's  Missing  Fortune 


The  first  thing  to  be  done  is  to  inclose  this  bill  to 
Denny  &  Co.,  booksellers,  Strand.    Tell  them  you  have 
lost  the  volume,  and  ask  them  to  send  another.    There 
IS  hkely  some  one  in  the  shop  who  can  decipher  the  illeg- 
ible writmg.    I  am  certain  the  book  will  give  us  a  clew 
Now,   I   shall   write   to   Braun   &   Sons,    Budge   Row! 
This  IS  evidently  a  French  company;  in  fact,  the  name 
as  connected  with  paper  making  runs  in  my  mind,  al- 
though I  cannot  at  this  moment  place  it.     I  shall  ask 
them  the  use  of  this  paper  that  they  furnished  to  the  late 

This  was  done  accordingly,  and  now,  as  we  thought 
until  the  answers  came,  we  were  two  men  out  of  work 
Yet  the  next  morning,  I  am  pleased  to  say,  and  I  have 
always  rather  plumed  myself  on  the  fact,  I  solved  the 
mystery  before  replies  were  received  from  London  Of 
course,  both  the  book  and  the  answer  of  the  paper  agents 
by  puttmg  two  and  two  together,  would  have  given  us 
the  key. 

After  breakfast  I  strolled  somewhat  aimlessly  into 
the  library,  whose  floor  was  now  strewn  merely  with 
brown  wrapping  paper,  bits  of  string,  and  all  that.    As 
I  shuffled  among  this  with  my  feet,  as  if  tossing  aside 
dead  autumn  leaves  in  a  forest  path,  my  attention  was 
suddenly  drawn  to  several  squares  of  paper,  unwrinkled. 
and  never  used  for  wrapping.  These  sheets  seemed  to  me 
strangely  familiar.    I  picked  one  of  them  up,  and  at  once 
the  significance  of  the  name  Braun  &  Sons  occurred  to 
me.    T:.cy  are  paper  makers  in  France,  who  produce  a 
smooth,  very  tough  sheet,  which,  dear  as  it  is,  proves 

i6i 


5 


S:  : 

•V, 


infinitely  cheap  compared  with  the  fine'vellum  it  deposed 

heteir  i^r  •"  '•"T- '" '"'-  ^-"^"' 

inese  sheets  had  g,ven  me  the  knowledge  of  how  a  «„J 
of  .hteves  disposed  of  their  gold  wiLut  milt  nf  t' 
The  paper  was  used  instead  of  vellun,  in  the  rough  ; 

sZt".      T"''""™«  S"'"  '-'■    I'  ='ood  the  co" 
urn.  beattng  of  the  hammer  nearly  as  well  as  the  vellum 
.nd  here  at  once  there  flashed  on  me  the  secret  o  I' 
old  man  s  midnight  anvil  work.     He  was  lr,t,! 

■'rurrjr  r  '-'■  "■'""-• ''™"™" 

a  rude,  th.ck  kmd,  because  to  produce  the  gold  leaf  of 
commerce   he   still   needed   the   vellum   as   wel    a     a 

no  .'fee.  "      °*"  "'"'■'"">••  °'  "«^>'  -  -ad  f^nd 

o.h:iv:;i'.:::^  !r^  ~' (h-- a.  the 

anvnofyourow„rshcLr„':er:.t*-— e 

-sr:i^„^-r;— -™ 
cau.V!:sT:ci^a:edtir:e::\.::;  irr;^^^^ 

ing  of  the  book,  of  wall  coveri,^.  of  thK  ,  T  '" 
from  France,  all  group  themseK«  into  'Ztjf  T' 
cceurring  within  the  same  month  a    t he  p„  chl  ^f  tt 

crrrdT:-irT^  *-"^^^^ 

of  paper  he  got  from  Budge  Row     ZT  """  """'^ 
anything  like  it?    Try  to  Lf7^  ^ampTe^™  ''"  '- 
,,„,      V^asonably  tough,"  admitted  his  lordship  fruit 
lessly  endeavoring  to  rip  it  apart.  ^' 

162 


Lord  Chizelrigg's  Missing  Fortune 


Yes.    It 


was  made  in  France,  and  is  used  in  gold 
beating.  Your  uncle  beat  his  sovereigns  into  gold  leaf. 
You  will  find  that  the  book  from  Denny's  is  a  volume  on 
gold  beating,  and  now  as  I  remember  that  scribbled 
word  which  I  could  not  tnake  out,  I  think  the  title  of  the 
volume  is  '  Metallurgy.'  It  contains,  no  doubt,  a  chap- 
ter on  the  manufacture  of  gold  leaf." 

"  I  believe  you,'"  said  the  earl ;  "  but  I  don't  see  that 
the  discovery  sets  us  any  farther  forward.     We're  now 
looking  for  gold  leaf  instead  of  sovereigns." 
"  Let's  examine  this  wall  paper,"  said  I. 
I  placed  my  knife  under  a  corner  of  it  at  the  floor, 
and  quite  easily  ripped  off  a  large  section.    As  Higgins 
had  said,  the  brown  paper  was  on  top,  and  the  coarse, 
light-colored   paper  underneath.      But  even   that  came 
away  from  the  oak  paneling  as  easily  as  though  it  hung 
there  from  habit,  and  not  because  of  paste. 

"  Feel  the  weight  of  that,"  I  cried,  handing  him  the 
sheet  I  had  torn  from  the  wall. 

"  By  Jove!  "  said  the  earl,  in  a  voice  almost  of  awe. 
I  took  it  from  him,  and  laid  it,  face  downward,  on 
the  wooden  table,  threw  a  little  water  on  the  back,  and 
with  a  knife  scraped  away  the  porotij^  white  paper.  In- 
stantly there  gleamed  up  at  us  the  baleful  yellow  of  the 
gold.  I  shrugged  my  shoulders  and  spread  out  my 
hands.  The  Earl  of  Chizelrigg  laughed  aloud  and  very 
heartily. 

"  You  see  how  it  is."  I  cried  "  The  old  man  first 
covered  the  entire  wall  with  this  whitish  paper.  He 
heated  his  sovereigns  at  the  forge  and  beat  them  out 

163 


20 

3 


The  Triumphs  of  Eugene  Valmont 


I 


on  the  anvil,  then  completed  the  process  rudely  between 
the  sheets  of  this  paper  from  France.  Probably  he 
pasted  the  gold  to  the  wall  as  soon  as  he  shut  himself 
in  for  the  night,  and  covered  it  over  with  the  more 
expeni  Ive  paper  before  Higgins  entered  in  the  morning." 
We  found  afterwards,  however,  that  he  had  actually 
fastened  the  thick  sheets  of  gold  to  the  wall  with  carpet 
tacks. 

His  lordship  netted  a  trifle  over  a  hundred  and 
twenty-three  thousand  pounds  through  my  discovery, 
and  I  am  pleased  to  pay  tribute  to  the  young  man's  gen- 
erosity by  saying  that  his  voluntary  settlement  made  my 
bank  account  swell  stout  as  a  City  alderman. 


164 


CHAPTER   XIII 


THE   FUTILITY   OF   A   SEARCH    WARRANT 

jOME  years  ago  I  enjoyed  the  unique  expe- 
rience of  pursuing  a  man  for  one  crime, 
ai.d  getting  evidence  against  him  of  an- 
other. He  was  innocent  of  the  misde- 
meanor, the  proof  of  which  I  sought,  but 
was  guilty  of  another  most  serious  offense,  yet  he  and 
his  confederates  escaped  scot-free  in  circumstances  which 
I  now  purpose  to  relate. 

You  may  remember  that  in  Rudyard  Kipling's  story, 
"  Bedalia  Herodsfoot,"  the  unfortunate  woman's  hus- 
band ran  the  risk  of  being  arrested  as  a  simple  drunkard, 
at  a  moment  when  the  blood  of  murder  was  upon  his 
boots.  The  case  of  Ralph  Summertrees  was  rather  the 
reverse  of  this.  The  English  authorities  were  trying  to 
fasten  upon  him  a  crime  almost  as  important  as  murder, 
while  I  was  collecting  evidence  which  proved  him 
guilty  of  an  action  much  more  momentous  than  that  of 
drunkenness. 

The  English  authorities  have  always  been  good 
enough,  when  they  recognize  my  existence  at  all,  to 
look  down  upon  me  with  amused  condescension.  If 
to-day  you  ask  Spenser  Hale,  of  Scotland  Yard,  what 
he  thinks  of  Eugene  Valmont,  that  complacent  man  will 

165 


ntm^ 


"9 


5; 


t 
I 


t  I.. 

'     ii; 


'   In 


The  Triumphs  of  Eugene  Falmont 


put  on  the  superior  smile  which  so  well  becomes  him. 
and  If  you  are  a  very  intimate  friend  of  his,  he  may 
draw  down  the  lid  of  his  right  eye  as  he  replies: 

"  Oh,  yes ;  a  very  decent  fellow,  Valmont,  but  he's 
a  Frenchman  I "  as  if.  that  said,  there  was  no  need  of 
further  inquiry. 

Myself,  I  like  the  English  detective  very  much,  and 
If  I  were  to  be  in  a  mClce  to-morrow,  there  is  no  man  I 
would  rather  find  beside  me  than  Spenser  Hale.  In  any 
situation  where  a  fist  that  can  fell  an  ox  is  desirable 
my  friend  Hale  is  a  useful  companion,  but  for  intellectu- 
ality, mental  acumen,  finesse-ah,  well !  I  am  the  most 
modest  of  men,  and  will  say  nothing. 

It  would  amuse  you  to  see  this  giant  come  into  my 
room  durmg  an  evening,  on  the  bluflF  pretense  that  he 
wishes  to  smoke  a  pipe  with  me.     There  is  the  same 
diflference  between  this  good-natured  giant  and  myself 
as  exists  between  that  strong  black  pipe  of  his  and  my 
delicate  cigarette,  which  I  smoke  feverishly,  when  he  is 
present,  to  protect  myself  from  the  fumes  of  his  terrible 
tobacco.    I  look  with  delight  upon  th^  htt,fe  man,  who, 
with  an  air  of  the  utmost  good  humor,  and  a  twinkle  in 
Ins  eye  as  he  thinks  he  is  twisting  me  about  his  finger 
vainly  endeavors  to  obtain  a  hint  regarding  whatever 
case  IS  perplexing  him  at  that  moment.    I  baffle  him  with 
the  ease  that  an  active  greyhound  eludes  the  pursuit  of 
a  heavy  mastiff,  then  at  last  I  say  to  him.  with  a  laugh  • 
Come,  mon  ami  Hale,  tell  me  all  about  it,  and  I 
will  help  you  if  I  can." 

Once  or  twice  at  the  beginning  he  shook  his  massive 

i66 


The  Futility  of  a  Search  Warrant 


& 


I 


head,  and  replied  the  secret  was  not  his.  The  last  time 
he  did  this  I  assured  him  that  what  he  said  was  quite 
correct,  and  then  I  related  full  particulars  of  the  situa- 
tion in  which  he  found  himself,  excepting  the  names  for 
these  he  had  not  mentioned.  I  had  pieced  together  his 
perplexity  from  scraps  of  conversation  in  his  half-hour's 
fishing  for  my  advice,  which,  of  course,  he  could  have 
had  for  the  plain  asking.  Since  that  time  he  has  not 
Ci.uie  to  me  except  with  cases  he  feels  at  liberty  to  reveal, 
and  one  or  two  complications  I  have  happily  been  enabled 
to  unravel  for  him. 

But,  stanch  as  Spenser  Hale  holds  the  belief  that 
no  detective  service  on  earth  can  excel  that  centering 
m  Scotland  Yard,  there  is  one  department  of  activity 
m  which  even   he  confesses   that   Frenchmen   are   his 
masters,  although  he  somewhat  grudgingly  qualifies  his 
admission,  by  adding  that  we  in  France  are  constantly 
allowed  to  do  what  is  prohibited  in  England.     I  refer 
to  the  minute  search  of  a  house  during  the  owner's  ab- 
sence.    If  you  read  that  excellent  story  entitled  "  The 
Purloined  Letter,"  by  Edgar  Allan  Poe,  you  will  find 
a  record  of  the  kind  of  thing  I  mean,  which  is  better 
than  any  description  I,  who  have  so  often  taken  part  in 
such  a  search,  can  set  down. 

Now,  these  people  among  whom  I  live  are  proud  of 
their  phrase,  "  The  Englishman's  house  is  his  castle," 
and  into  that  castle  even  a  policeman  cannot  penetrate 
without  a  legal  warrant.  This  may  be  all  very  well  in 
theory,  but  if  you  are  compelled  to  march  up  to  a  man's 
house,  blowing  a  trumpet  and  rattling  a  snare  drum. 

167 


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The  Triumphs  of  Eugene  Valmont 


you  need  not  be  disappointed  if  you  fail  to  find  what 
you  are  m  search  of  when  all  the  legal  restrictions  are 
comphed  with.    Of  course,  the  English  are  a  very  excel- 
lent people,  a  fact  to  which  I  am  always  proud  to  bear 
testimony,  but  it  must  be  admitted  that  for  cold  com- 
mon  sense  the  French  are  very  much  their  superiors.    In 
^ans,  ,f  I  wish  to  obtain  an  incriminating  document   I 
do  not  send  the  possessor  a  carte  postalc  to  inform  him 
of  my  desire,  and  in  this  procedure  the  French  people 
sanely  acquiesce.     I  have  known  men  who.  when  they 
go  out  to  spend  an  evening  on  the  boulevards,  toss  their 
bunch  of  keys  to  the  concierge,  saying: 

"  If  you  hear  the  police  rummaging  about  while  I'm 
away,  pray  assist  them,  with  an  expression  of  my  dis- 
tinguished consideration." 

I  remember,  while  I  was  chief  detective  in  the  serv- 
ice of  the  French  Government,  being  requested  to  call 
at  a  certain  hour  at  the  private  hotel  of  the  Minister 
for  Foreigii  Affairs.    It  was  during  the  time  that  Bis- 
marck meditated  a  second  attack  upon  my  countrv.  and 
I  am  happy  to  say  that  I  was  then  instrumental  in  sup- 
plying the  Secret  Bureau  with  documents  which  mollified 
that  iron  man's  purpose,  a  fact  which  I  think  entitled 
me  to  my  country's  gratitude,  not  that  I  ever  even  hinted 
sucha   claim    when   a   succeeding  ministry    forgot   my 
services.    The  memory  of  a  republic,  as  has  been  said 
by  a  greater  man  than  I,  is  short.     However,  all  that 
has  nothing  to  do  with  the  incident  I  am  about  to  relate 
I  merely  mention  the  crisis  to  excuse  a  momentary  for- 
getfulness  on  my  part  which  in  any  other  country  might 

168 


Mm'km.'i^s^'ima^l'>'::mx^7^m^f^ 


The  Futility  of  a  Search  H'arrant 


have  b.o„  followed  by  scrim,,  results  to  mvselt.     nu. 

a.  .'HrsL';  !r;Ce"a;"vv '  r," '"  ^"^ "'-"'"  """•^•' 

..tt    .A   .  ^         ^^'■'^-     ^  ^'"  "dually  the  calm, 

o  ected  Lugene  Valmont  whom  nothing  can  perturb 
hut  th.s  was  a  tunc  of  great  tension,  and  I  had  bccomj 
bsorbed.  I  was  alone  with  the  minister  in  his  private 
house  and  one  of  the  papers  he  wished  was  in  his  bu- 
reau a  the  Ministry  for  Foreign  Affairs;  at  least,  he 
thought  so,  and  said: 

"Ah!  it  is  in  my  desk  at  the  bureau.  How  annoy- 
ing!    Imust  send  for  it!"  ^ 

"No  Excellency."  I  cried,  springing  up  in  a  self- 
obhv,on  the  most  complete;  "  it  is  here."  Touching  the 
^rmg  of  a  secret  drawer,  I  opened  it,  and  taking  out 
the  document  he  wished,  handed  it  to  him 

It  was  not  until  I  met  his  searching  look,  and  saw 
tlie^Jamt  smUe  on  his  lips,  that  I  realized  what  I  had 

"Valmont."  he  said  quietly,  "on  whose  behalf  did 
you  search  my  house  ?  " 

"  Excellency."  I  replied  in  tones  no  less  agreeable 
than  h.s  own.  "to-night  at  your  orders  I  pay  I  domi- 

t^l  kI  '°  ''.'  "'"""  "'  ^^^°"  Dumoulaine,  who 
stands  high  m  the  estimation  of  the  President  of  the 
French  Republic.  If  either  of  those  distinguished  gen- 
lemen  should  learn  of  my  informal  call,  and  should  ask 
me  m  whose  mterests  I  made  the  domiciliary  visit  what 
's  It  you  wish  that  I  should  reply  > » 
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The  Triumphs  of  Eugene  Valmont 

"  You  should  reply,  Valmont,  that  you  did  it  in  the 
interests  of  the  Secret  Service." 

"  I  shall  not  fail  to  do  so,  Excellency,  and  in  answer 
to  your  question  just  now,  I  had  the  honor  of  searching 
this  mansion  in  the  interests  of  the  Secret  Service  of 
France." 

The  Minister  for  Foreign  Affairs  laughed ;  a  hearty 
laugh  that  expressed  no  resentment. 

"  I  merely  wished  to  compliment  you,  Valmont,  on 
the  efficiency  of  your  search  and  the  excellence  of  your 
memory.  This  is  indeed  the  document  which  I  thought 
was  left  in  my  office." 

I  wonder  what  Lord  Lansdowne  would  say  if  Spenser 
Hale  showed  an  equal  familiarity  with  his  private  pa- 
pers !  But  now  that  we  have  returned  to  our  good 
friend  Hale,  we  must  not  keep  him  waiting  any  longer. 


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170 


CHAPTER   XIV 


MR.    SPENSER   HALE  OF   SCOTLAND   YARD 


WELL  remember  tlie  November  day  when 
I  first  heard  of  the  Summertrees  case, 
because  there  hung  over  London  a  fog 
so  thick  that  two  or  three  times  I  lost 
my  way,  and  no  cab  was  to  be  had  at 
any  price.  The  few  cabmen  then  in  the  streets  were 
leading  their  animals  slowly  along,  making  for  their 
stables.  It  was  one  of  those  depressing  London  days 
which  filled  me  with  ennui  and  a  yearning  for  my  own 
clear  city  of  Paris,  where,  if  we  are  ever  visited  by  a 
slight  mist,  it  is  at  least  clean,  white  vapor,  and  not  this 
horrible  London  mixture  saturated  with  suffocating  car- 
bon. The  fog  was  too  thick  for  any  passer  to  read  the 
contents  bills  of  the  newspapers  plastered  on  the  pave- 
ment, and  as  there  were  probably  no  races  that  day  the 
newsboys  were  shouting  what  they  considered  the  next 
most  important  event — the  election  of  an  American 
President.  I  bought  a  paper  and  thrust  it  into  my 
pocket.  It  was  late  when  I  reached  my  flat,  and,  after 
dining  there,  which  was  an  unusual  thing  for  me  to  do, 
I  put  on  my  slippers,  took  an  easy-chair  before  the  fire, 
and  began  to  read  my  evening  journal.  I  was  distressed 
to  learn  that  the  eloquent  Mr.  Bryan  had  been  defeated. 

171 


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The  Triumphs  of  Eugene  Valmont 


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I  knew  little  about  the  silver  question,  but  the  man's 
oratorical  powers  had  appealed  to  me,  and  my  sympathy 
was  aroused  because  he  owned  many  silver  mines,  and 
yet  the  price  of  the  metal  was  so  low  that  apparently  he 
could  not  make  a  living  through  the  operation  of  them. 
But,  of  course,  the  cry  that  he  was  a  plutocrat,  and  a  re- 
puted millionaire  over  and  over  again,  was  bound  to  de- 
feat him  in  a  democracy  where  the  average  voter  is  ex- 
ceedingly poor  and  not  comfortably  well-to-do,  as  is  the 
case  with  our  peasants  in  France.  I  always  took  great 
interest  in  the  affairs  of  the  huge  republic  to  the  west, 
having  been  at  some  pains  to  inform  myself  accurately 
regarding  its  politics ;  and  although,  as  my  readers  know, 
I  seldom  quote  anything  complimentary  that  is  said  of 
me,  nevertheless,  an  American  client  of  mine  once  ad- 
mitted that  he  never  knew  the  true  inwardness — I  think 
that  was  the  phrase  he  used— of  American  politics  until 
he  heard  me  discourse  upon  them.  But  then,  he  added, 
he  had  been  a  very  busy  man  all  his  life. 

I  had  allowed  my  paper  to  slip  to  the  floor,  for  in 
very  truth  the  fog  was  penetrating  even  into  my  flat,  and 
it  was  becoming  difficult  to  read,  notwithstanding  tho 
electric  light.  My  man  came  in,  and  announced  that 
Mr.  Spenser  Hale  wished  to  see  me,  and,  indeed,  any 
night,  but  especially  when  there  is  rain  or  fog  outside, 
I  am  more  pleased  to  talk  with  a  friend  than  to  read  a 
newspaper. 

"  Mon  Dieu,  my  dear  Monsieur  Hale,  it  is  a  brave 
man  you  are  to  venture  out  in  such  a  fog  as  is  abroad 
to-night." 

172 


Mr.  Spenser  Hale  of  Scotland  Yard 


V 


i 


"Ah,  Monsieur  Valmont,"  said  Hale  with  pride, 
"  you  cannot  raise  a  fog  like  this  in  Paris !  " 

"  No.  There  you  are  supreme,"  I  admitted,  rising 
and  saluting  my  visitor,  then  offering  him  a  chair. 

"  I  see  you  are  reading  the  latest  news,"  he  said, 
indicatmg  my  newspaper.  "  I  am  very  glad  that  man 
Bryan  is  defeated.    Now  we  shall  have  better  times." 

I  waved  my  hand  as  I  took  my  chair  again.  I  will 
discuss  many  things  with  Spenser  Hale,  but  not  Ameri- 
can politics ;  he  does  not  understand  them.  It  is  a  com- 
mon defect  of  the  English  to  suffer  complete  ignorance 
regarding  the  internal  affairs  of  other  countries. 

"  It  is  surely  an  important  thing  that  brought  you 
out  on  such  a  night  as  this.  The  fog  must  be  very  thick 
in  Scotland  Yard." 

This  delicate  shaft  of  fancy  co  pieiely  missed  him, 
and  he  answered  stolidly: 

"  It's  thick  all  over  London,  and,  indeed,  throughout 
most  of  England." 

"  Yes,  it  is,"  I  agreed,  but  he  did  not  see  that  either. 
Still,  a  moment  later,  he  made  a  remark  which,  if  it 
had  come  from  some  people  I  know,  might  have  in- 
dicated a  glimmer  of  '  ~"iprehension. 

"You  are  a  ver\,  ,ery  clever  man.  Monsieur  Val- 
mont, so  all  I  need  say  is  that  the  question  which  brought 
me  here  is  the  same  as  that  on  which  the  American  elec- 
tion was  fought.  Now,  to  a  countryman,  I  should  be 
compelled  to  give  further  explanation,  but  to  you,  mon- 
sieur, that  will  not  be  necessary." 

There  are  times  when  I  dislike  the  crafty  smile  and 

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partial  closing  of  the  eyes  which  always  distinguishes 
Spenser  Hale  when  he  places  on  the  table  a  problem 
which  he  expects  will  baffle  me.  If  I  said  he  never  did 
baffle  me,  I  would  be  wrc  'g,  of  course,  for  sometimes 
the  utter  simplicity  of  thi,  puzzles  which  trouble  him 
leads  me  into  v.n  intricate  involution  entirely  unnecessary 
in  the  circumstances. 

I  pressed  my  finger  tips  together,  and  gazed  for  a  few 
moments  at  the  ceiling.  Hale  had  lit  his  black  pipe,  and 
my  silent  servant  placed  at  his  elbow  the  whisky  and 
soda,  then  tiptoed  out  of  the  room.  As  the  door  closed 
my  eyes  came  from  the  ceiling  to  the  level  of  Hale's  ex- 
pansive countenance. 

"  Have  they  eluded  you  ?  "  I  asked  quietly. 

"Who?" 

"  The  coiners." 

Hale's  pipe  dropped  from  his  jaw,  but  he  managed 
to  catch  it  before  it  reached  the  floor.  Then  he  took  a 
gulp  from  the  tumbler, 

"  That  was  just  a  lucky  shot,"  he  said. 

"  Parfaitcment,"  I  replied  carelessly. 

"  Now,  own  up.  Valmont,  wasn't  it?  " 

I  shrugged  my  shoulders.  A  man  cannot  contradict 
a  guest  in  his  own  house. 

"Oh,  stow  that!"  cried  Hale  impolitely.  He  is  a 
trifle  prone  to  strong  and  even  slangy  expressions  when 
puzzled.    "  Tell  me  how  you  guessed  it." 

"  It  is  very  simple,  mon  ami.  The  question  on  which 
the  American  election  was  fought  is  the  price  of  silver, 
which  is   so  low  that  it  has  ruined   Mr.   Bryan,  and 

174 


Mr.  Spenser  Hale  of  Scotland  Yard 


W 


threatens  to  ruin  all  the  farniors  of  the  West  who  pos- 
sess silver  mines  on  their  farms.  Silver  troubled  Amer- 
ica, ergo  silver  troubles  Scotland  Yard. 

"  Very  well ;  the  natural  inference  is  that  some  one 
has  stolen  bars  of  silver.  But  such  a  theft  happened 
three  months  ago,  when  the  metal  was  being  unloaded 
from  a  German  steamer  at  Southampton,  and  my  dear 
friend  Spenser  Hale  ran  down  the  thieves  very  cleverly 
as  they  were  trying  to  dissolve  the  marks  off  the  bars 
with  acid.  Now  crimes  do  not  run  in  series,  like  the 
numbers  in  roulette  at  Monte  Carlo.  The  thieves  are 
men  of  brains.  They  say  to  themselves,  '  What  chance 
is  there  successfully  to  steal  bars  of  silver  while  Mr. 
Hale  is  at  Scotland  Yard  ? '    Eh,  my  good  friend  ?  " 

"Really,  Valmont,"  said  Hale,  taking  another  sip, 
"  sometimes  you  almost  persuade  me  that  you  have  rea- 
soning powers." 

"  Thanks,  comrade.  Then  it  is  not  a  theft  of  silver 
we  have  now  to  deal  with.  But  the  American  election 
was  fought  on  the  price  of  silver.  If  silver  had  been 
high  in  cost,  there  would  have  been  no  silver  question. 
So  the  crime  that  is  bothering  you  arises  through  the  low 
price  of  silver,  and  this  suggests  that  it  must  be  a  case 
of  illicit  coinage,  for  there  the  low  price  of  the  metal 
comes  in.  You  have,  perha-'s,  found  a  more  subtle  ille- 
gitimate act  going  forward  than  heretofore.  Some  one 
is  making  your  shillings  and  your  half  crowns  from  real 
silver,  instead  of  ^'rom  baser  metal,  and  yet  there  is  a 
large  profit  which  has  not  hitherto  been  possible  through 
the  high  price  of  silver.     With  the  old  conditions  you 


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were  familiar,  but  this  new  element  sets  at  naught  all 
your  previous  formulas.  That  is  how  I  reasoned  the 
matter  out." 

*'  Well.  Valmont,  you  have  hit  it,  I'll  sav  that  for 
you ;  you  have  hit  it.  There  is  a  gang  of  expert  coiners 
who  are  putting  out  real  silver  money,  and  making  a 
clear  shilling  on  the  half  crown.  We  can  finrl  no  trace 
of  the  coiners,  but  we  know  the  man  who  is  shovintr  the 
stuff."  ** 

"  That  ought  to  be  sufficient,"  I  suggested. 

"  Yes,  it  should,  but  it  hasn't  proved  so  up  to  date. 
Now  I  came  to-night  to  see  if  you  would  do  one  of  your 
French  tricks  for  us,  right  on  the  quiet." 

"What  French  trick,  Monsieur  Spenser  Hale?"  I 
inquired  with  some  asperity,  forgetting  for  the  moment 
that  the  man  invari^ibly  became  impolite  when  he  grew 
excited. 

"  No  offense  intended,"  .said  this  blundering  officer, 
who  really  is  a  good-natured  fellow,  but  always  puts  his 
foot  in  it,  and  then  apologizes.  "  I  want  some  one  to  go 
through  a  man's  house  without  a  search  warrant,  spot 
the  evidence,  let  me  know,  and  then  we'll  rush  the  place 
before  he  has  time  to  hide  his  tracks." 

"  Who  is  this  man,  and  where  does  he  live  ? " 
"  His  name  is  Ralph  Summertrees,  and  he  lives  in  a 
very  natty  little  hijou  residence,  as  the  advertisements 
call  it,  situated  in  no  less  a  fashionable  street  than  Park 
Lane." 

"  I  see.    What  has  aroused  your  suspicions  against 
him } " 

176 


«m|(^:i, 


Mr.  Spenser  Hale  of  Scotland  Yani 

•;  Well,  you  know,  that's  an  expensive  district  to  Uve 
.n ;  It  takes  a  bit  of  money  to  do  the  trick.  This  Sum- 
mertrees  has  no  ostensible  business,  yet  every  Friday 
he  goes  to  the  United  Capital  Bank  in  Piccadilly,  and 
dcf>osits  a  bag  of  swag,  usually  all  silver  coin." 

"  Yes  ;  and  this  money  ?  " 

"  This  money,  so  far  as  we  can  learn,  contains  a  good 
many  of  these  new  pieces  which  never  saw  the  British 
Aunt. 

"  It's  not  all  the  new  coinage,  then  ?  " 

"Oh.  no.  he's  a  bit  too  artful  for  that!     You  see   a 
man  can  go  round  London,  his  pockets  filled  with" new- 
co.ned  fivc-shilling  pieces,  buy  this,  that,  and  the  other 
and  come  home  with  his  change  in  legitimate  coins  of  the 
realm-half  crowns,  florins,  shillings,  sixpences,  and  all 

"  I  see.  Then  why  don't  you  nab  him  one  day  when 
h.s  pockets  are  stuffed  with  illegitimate  five-shilling 
pieces  ?  ® 

"  That  could  be  done,  of  course,  and  I've  thought  of 
>t,  but,  you  see,  we  want  to  land  the  whole  gang  Once 
we  arrested  him,  without  knowing  where  the  money 
came  from,  the  real  coiners  would  take  flight  " 

self?  ^""^  "^^  ^°"  ^"""^  ^'  ''  "°'  ^^'  '"^^  ^°'"^'-  him- 
Now  poor  H?'e  is  as  easy  to  read  as  a  book.    He 
hesitated  before   answering  this   question,   and   looked 
confused  as  a  culprit  caught  in  some  dishonest  act 

You  need  not  be  afraid  to  tell  me,"  I  said  sooth- 
ingly, after  a  pause.    "  You  have  had  one  of  your  men  in 

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Mr,  Summertrecs's  house,  and  so  learned  that  he  is  not 
the  coiner.  But  your  man  has  not  succeeded  in  getting 
you  evidence  to  incriminate  other  people." 

"  Yo-  've  about  hit  it  again.  .Monsieur  Valmont.  One 
of  my  men  has  been  Summertrecs's  butler  for  two  weeks, 
but,  as  you  say,  he  has  found  no  e  ^lence." 

"Is  he  still  butler?" 

"  Yes." 

"  Now  tell  me  how  far  you  have  got.  You  know 
that  Summertrees  deposits  a  bag  of  coin  every  Friday 
in  the  Piccadilly  Bank,  and  I  si  -pose  the  bank  has  al- 
lowed you  to  examine  on^  or  two  of  the  bags." 

"Yes,  sir,  they  have,  but,  you  see,  banks  are  very 
difficult  to  treat  with.  They  don't  like  detectives  botner- 
inrr  round,  and  while  they  do  not  stand  out  against  the 
law,  still  they  never  answer  any  more  questions  than 
they're  asked,  and  Mr.  Summertrees  has  been  a  good 
customer  at  the  United  Capital  for  many  y-ars." 

"Haven't  you  found  out  where  the  money  comes 
from?" 

"  Yes,  we  have ;  it  is  brought  there  night  after  night 
by  a  man  who  looks  like  a  respectable  city  clerk,  and 
he  puts  it  into  a  large  safe,  of  vhich  he  holds  the  key, 
this  safe  being  on  the  ground  floor,  in  the  dining  room." 

"  Haven't  you  followed  the  clerk  ?  " 

"  Yes.  He  sleeps  in  the  Park  Lane  house  every  night 
and  goes  up  in  the  morning  lO  an  old  curiosity  shop  in 
Tottenham  Court  Road,  where  he  stays  all  day,  return- 
ing with  his  bag  of  money  in  the  evening." 

"  Why  don't  you  arrest  and  question  hm?  " 

178 


x^/r.  Spenser  Hale  of  Scotland   Yard 


"W.  ',  Monsieur  Valmont,  there  is  just  the  same 
objection  to  his  arrest  as  to  that  of  Summcrtrcos  himself. 
We  could  easily  arrest  both,  but  we  have  not  the  slightest 
evidence  against  either  of  them,  and  then,  although  we 
put  the  go-betwceni  in  clink,  the  worst  criminals  of  the 
lot  would  escape." 

*'  Nothing  suspicious  about  the  old  curiosity  shop?  " 
"  No.    It  appears  to  be  perfectly  regular  " 

"  This  game  has  been  going  on  under  vour  no.cs  for 
how  long? " 

"  For  about  six  weeks  " 

"  Is  Summertrees  a  married  man '  " 

"  No." 

"  Are  there  any  women  servants  in  the  house  ?  " 
"No,  except  that  three  charwomen  come  in  every 

morning  to  do  up  the  rooms." 

"  Of  what  is  his  household  comprised?  " 

"  There  is  the  butler,  then  the  valet,  and   last  the 

French  «.  v>k." 

"  Ah,"  cried  I.  "  the  French  cook !  This  case  in- 
terests me.  So  Summertrc-s  has  succeeded  in  com- 
pletel>  disconcerting  your  man?  Has  he  prevented  him 
gomg  Irom  top  to  ;x)ttom  of  the  house  ?  " 

"  Oh,  no!  He  has  rather  assisted  him  'han  otherwise 
On  one  occasion  he  went  to  the  safe,  took  out  the  monev. 
had  Podgers-that's  my  chap's  name-hel-  him  to  ccmt 
«t,  and  then  actually  sent  Podgers  to  the  bank  with  the 
bag  of  coin." 

"  And  Podgers  has  been  all  over  the  place  >  " 
"Yes."  ■ 


i 


3 


179 


The  Triumphs  of  Eugene  Falmont 


I-  ■" 

\  " 

c:  :■■■• 


^1 


^1    '"■w.i 


'•■"„.: 


Saw  no  signs  of  a  coining  establishment  ?  " 
"  No.    It  is  absolutely  impossible  tliat  any  coining  can 
be  clone  there.     Besides,  as  I  tell  you.  that  res,H.-ctablc 
clerk  brmgs  him  the  money." 

"  I  suppose  you  want  me  to  take  Podgers's  position'  " 
"Well,  Monsieur  Valmont.  to  tell  you  the  truth  I 
would  rather  you  didn't.  Podgers  has  done  everything; 
a  man  can  do,  but  I  thought  if  you  got  into  the  house 
Podgers  assisting,  you  might  go  through  it  night  after 
night  at  your  leisure." 

"  I  see.  That's  just  a  little  dangerous  in  England 
I  think  I  should  prefer  to  assure  myself  the  legitimate 
standing  of  being  amiable  Podgers's  successor.  You  say 
that  Stimmertrecs  has  no  business  ?  " 

•'  Well,  sir,  not  what  you  might  call  a  business.  He 
IS  by  way  of  being  an  author,  but  I  don't  count  that  anv 
business." 

"Oh,  an  author,  is  he.'  When  does  he  no  his 
writing?  " 

''  He  locks  himself  up  most  of  the  day  in  l.is  study." 

"  Does  he  come  out  for  lunch  ?  " 

"No;  he  lights  a  little  spirit  lamp  inside,  Podgers 
tells  me,  and  makes  himself  a  cup  of  coflfee,  which  he 
takes  with  a  sandwich  or  two." 

•'  That's  rather  frugal  fare  for  Park  Lane."  ' 

"  Yes,  Monsieur  Valmont,  it  is,  but  he  makes  it  up  I 
in  the  evening,  when  he  hai  a  long  dinner,  with  all  them  ! 
foreign  kickshaws  you  people  like,  done  by  his  French  > 
cook." 

"  Sensible  man !    Well,  Hale,  I  see  I  shall  look  for- 

i8o 


Mr.  Spenser  Ilalc  of  Scotland   Yard 


npcan 
cctablc 

ion?" 
nth,  I 
ythinj; 
house, 
after 

jland. 
;imatc 
u  say 

lie 
t  any 

>    his 

xyr 

Igers 
h  he 


t  up     6 
:he;n 
ench    il 


ward  with  pleasure  to  making  chc  ac.|uai.itan.c  of  Mr 
Sumincrtrecs.  Is  there  any  restriction  on  the  going  and 
coming  of  your  man  Podgers  ?  " 

"  None  in  the  least.     He  can  get  awav  either  night 
or  day." 

"  Very  good,  friend  Hale;  bring  him  here  to-nmrruw 
as  soon  as  our  author  locks  himself  up  in  his  study, 
or  rather.  I  should  say.  as  soon  as  the  resnectable  clerk 
leaves  for  Tottenham  Court  Road,  which  '  .,ould  guess 
as  you  put  it.  is  about  half  an  hour  after  his  master 
turns  the  key  of  the  room  in   vhich  he  writes." 

"  You  are  quite  right  in  that  guess,  Valmr-nt.     How 
did  you  hit  it  ?  " 

"  Merely  a  surmise.  Hale.    There  is  a  good  deal  of 
oddity  about  that  Park  Lane  house,  so  it  doesn't  surprise 
me  m  the  least  that  the  master  gets  to  work  earlier  in 
die  morning  than  the  man.    I  have  also  a  suspicion  that 
Ralph  Summertrees  knows  perfectly  well  what  the  es- 
timable Podgers  is  there  for." 
"  What  makes  you  think  that  ?  " 
"  I  can  give  no  reason  except  that  my  opinion  of  the 
acuteness  of  Summertrees  has  been  gradually  rising  all 
the  whde  you  were  speaking,  and  at  the  same  time  my 
estimate  of  Podgers's  craft  has  been  as  steadily  declin- 
es:.   However,  bring  the  man  here  to-morrow,  that  I 
may  ask  him  a  few  questions." 


■5 

i 


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o 
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for- 


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*'^■  '"'nio., 
^'v,  I. 


CHAPTER  XV 

THE    STRANGE    HOUSE    IN    PARK    LANE 

I  EXT  day,  about  eleven  o'clock,  the  pon 
derous  Podgers,  hat  in  hand,  followed  hi 
chief  into  my  room.  His  broad,  impas 
sive,  immobile,  smooth  face  gave  hin 
rather  more  the  air  of  a  genuine  butlei 
than  I  had  expected,  and  this  appearance,  of  course,  wa? 
enhanced  by  his  livery.  His  replies  to  my  questions  were 
those  of  a  well-trained  servant  who  will  not  say  too  much 
unless  it  is  made  worth  his  while.  All  in  all,  Podgers 
exceeded  my  expectations,  and  really  my  friend  Hale 
had  some  justification  for  regarding  him,  as  he  evidently 
did,  a  triumph  in  his  line. 

"  Sit  down,  Mr.  Hale,  and  you,  Podgers." 
The  man  disregarded  my  invitation,  standing  like  a 
statue  until  his  chief  made  a  motion ;  then  he  dropped 
into  a  chair.    The  English  are  great  on  discipline. 

"  Now,  Mr.  Hale,  I  must  first  congratulate  you  on 
the  make-up  of  Podgers.  It  is  excellent.  You  depend 
less  on  artificial  assistance  than  we  do  in  France,  and 
in  that  I  think  you  are  right." 

"  Oh,  we  know  a  bit  over  here,  Monsieur  Valmont ! " 
said  Hale,  with  pardonable  pride. 

"  Now  then.  Podgers,  I  want  to  ask  you  about  this 
clerk.    What  time  does  he  arrive  in  the  evening?  " 

182 


The  Strange  House  in  Park  Lane 


lie  pon- 
wed  his 
impas- 
ve    him 
;  butler 
se,  was 
IS  were 
o  much 
'odgers 
d  Hale 
identlv 


like  a 
ropped 

'^ou  on 
lepend 
e,  and 


"  At  prompt  six,  sir." 

"  Does  he  ring,  or  let  himself  in  with  a  latchkey  >  " 
"  With  a  latchkey,  sir."  * 

"  How  does  he  carry  the  money'  " 

shoulderV'"''  '"''''"  '"'"'■  "''''•'  ''''  '""^  ^^^'^  ^'^ 

"  Does  he  go  direct  to  the  dining  room?  " 
"  Yes,  sir." 

"  Have  you  seen  him  unlock  the  safe,  and  put  in  the 
money  ? 

"  Yes,  sir." 

"Does  the  safe  unlock  with  a  word  or  a  key?" 
kind"^'"^   ^   ^^^'   '''■     ^^'   ''"''  ""^   ^^'"^   old-fashioned 

"Then  the  clerk  unlocks  his  leather  money  bae?" 
"  Yes,  sir."  '       ^ ' 

"That's  three  keys  used  within  as  many  minutes. 
Are  they  separate  or  in  a  bunch  ?  " 
"  In  a  bunch,  sir." 

keys'?^' "^  ^""^  ^^^'  ''^  -'°"''  "'^'^""  '^''^^'  *^''  ^""^^  °f 
"  No,  sir." 

"  You  saw  him  open  the  safe  once,  I  am  told?  " 
"  Yes,  sir." 

"Did  he  use  a  separate  key,  or  one  of  a  bunch?  " 
Podgers  slowly  scratched  his  head,  then  said: 
"  I  don't  just  remember,  sir." 

th.t'tf'''  ^°t^""''  ^""^  ^''  neglecting  the  big  things  in 
that  house  I    Sure  you  can't  remember  ?  " 
Ao,  Sir. 

183 


2 

i 

2 


n 
o 
o 


The  Triumphs  of  Eugene  Valmont 


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"  Once  the  money  is  in  and  the  safe  locked  up,  what 
does  the  clerk  do  ?  " 

"  Goes  to  his  room,  sir." 

"  Where  is  this  room  ?  " 

"  On  the  third  floor,  sir." 

"  Where  do  you  sleep?  " 

"  On  the  fourth  floor  with  the  rest  of  the  servants, 
sir." 

"  Where  does  the  master  sleep  ?  " 

"  On  the  second  floor,  adjoining  his  study." 

"  The  house  consists  of  four  stories  and  a  basement, 
does  it  :^" 

"  Yes,  sir." 

"  I  have  somehow  arrived  at  the  suspicion  that  it  is 
a  very  narrow  house.    Is  that  true  ?  " 

"  Yes,  sir." 

"  Does  the  clerk  ever  dine  with  your  master  ?  " 

"  No,  sir.    The  clerk  don't  eat  in  the  house  at  all,  sir." 

"  Does  he  go  away  before  breakfast?  " 

"  No,  siV." 

"  No  one  takes  breakfast  to  his  room?  " 

"  No,  sir." 

"  What  time  does  he  leave  the  house?" 

"  At  ten  o'clock,  sir." 

"  When  is  breakfast  served  ?  " 

"  At  nine  o'clock,  sir." 

"At  what  hour  does  your  master  retire  to  his 
study?" 

"  At  half  past  nine,  sir." 

"  Locks  the  door  on  the  inside  ?  " 

184 


,  what 


vants, 


;ment, 


t  it  is 


sir.' 


D    his 


The  Strange  House  in  Park  Lane 


"  Yes,  sir." 

"  Never  rings  for  anything  during  the  day  ?  " 

"  Not  that  I  know  of,  sir." 

"  What  sort  of  a  man  is  he  ?  " 

Here  Podgers  was  on  familiar  ground,  and  he  rattled 
off  a  description  minute  in  every  particular 

"  What  I  meant  was,  Podgers,  is  he  silent,  or  talk- 
ative, or  does  he  get  angry?  Does  he  seem  furtive,  sus- 
picious, anxious,  terrorized,  calm,  excitable,  or  what?" 

"  Well,  sir,  he  is  by  way  of  being  very  quiet,  never 
has  much  to  say  for  hisself;  never  saw  him  angry  or 
excited." 

"  Now.  Podgers,  you've  been  at  Park  Lane  for  a 
fortnight  or  more.  You  are  a  sharp,  alert,  observant 
man.    What  happens  there  that  strikes  you  as  unusual  ?  " 

"Well,  I  can't  exactly  say,  sir."  replied  Podgers, 
looking  rather  helplessly  from  his  chief  to  myself,  and 
back  again. 

"  Your  professional  duties  have  often  compelled  you 
to  enact  the  part  of  butler  before,  otherwise  you  wouldn't 
do  It  so  well.    Isn't  that  the  case  ? " 

Podgers  did  not  reply,  but  glanced  at  his  chief     This 
was  evidently  a  question  pertaining  to  the  service,  which 
a  subordinate  was  not  allowed  to  answer.     However 
Hale  said  at  once: 

''  Certainly.     Podgers  has  been  in  dozens  of  place-  " 
"  Well.  Podgers.  just  call  to  mind  some  of  the  other 
households  where  you  have  been  employed,  and  tell  me 
any  particulars   in   which  Mr.   Summertree's  establish- 
ment differs  from  them." 

^3  185 


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The  Triumphs  of  Eugene  Valmont 

Podgers  pondered  a  long  time. 

"  Well,  sir,  he  do  stick  to  writing  pretty  close." 

"  Ah,  that's  his  profession,  you  see,  Podgers.  Hard 
at  it  from  half  past  nine  till  toward  seven,  I  imagine?" 

"  Yes,  sir." 

"  Anything  else,  Podgers?    No  matter  how  trivial." 

"  Well,  sir,  he's  fond  of  reading,  too ;  leastways,  he's 
fond  of  newspapers." 

"When  does  he  read?" 

"  I  never  seen  him  read  'em,  sir ;  indeed,  so  far 
as  I  can  tell,  I  never  knew  the  papers  to  be  opened,  but 
he  takes  them  all  in,  sir." 

"  What,  all  the  morning  papers  ?  " 

"  Yes,  sir,  and  all  the  evening  papers,  too." 

"  Where  are  the  morning  papers  placed  ?  " 

"  On  the  table  in  his  study,  sir." 

"  And  the  evening  papers  ?  " 

"  Well,  sir,  when  the  evening  papers  come,  the  study 
is  locked.  They  are  put  on  a  side  table  in  the  dining 
room,  and  he  takes  them  upstairs  with  him  to  his  study." 

"  This  has  happened  every  day  since  you've  been 
there?" 

"  Yes,  sir." 

"  You  reported  that  very  striking  fact  to  your  chief, 
of  course  ?  " 

"  No,  sir,  I  don't  think  I  did,"  said  Podgers  con- 
fused. 

"  You  should  have  done  so.  Mr.  Hale  would  have 
known  how  to  make  the  most  of  a  point  so  vital." 

"Oh,    come    now,    Valmont,"     interrupted     Hale, 

i86 


se. 

Hard 
ine?" 

ivial." 
fs,  he's 


I 


so   far 

ed,  but      I 


The  Strange  House  in  Park  Lane 


"you're  chaffing  us!     Plenty  of  people  take  in  all  the 
papers ! " 

"  I  think  not.    Even  clubs  and  hotels  subscribe  to  the 
leading  journals  only.    You  said  a!!,  I  think,  Podgers?  » 

"  Well,  nearly  all,  sir." 

"  But  which  is  it?    There's  a  vast  difference." 

"  He  takes  a  good  many,  sir." 

"  How  many? " 

"  I  don't  just  know,  sir." 

'  That's  easily  found  out,  Valmont,"  cried  Hale,  with 
some  impatience,  "  if  you  think  it  really  important." 

"  I  think  it  so  important  that  I'm  going  back  with 
Podgers  mys.'-lf.  You  can  take  me  into  the  house,  I 
suppose,  when  you  return  ?  " 

"  Oh,  yes,  sir !  " 

"  Coming  back  to  these  newspapers  for  a  moment, 
Podgers.    What  is  done  with  them  ?  " 

''  They  are  sold  to  the  ragman,  sir,  once  a  week." 
"  Who  takes  them  from  the  study '  " 
"  I  do,  sir." 

''  Do  they  appear  to  have  been  read  very  carefully?  " 
"Well,  no,  sir;  leastways,  some  of  them  seem  never 

to  have  been  opened,  or  else  folded  up  very  carefullv 

again." 

"  Did  you  notice  that  extracts  have  been  clipped  from 
any  of  them  ?  " 


No. 


sir. 


Does  Mr.  Summertrees  keep  a  scrapbooki 


Not  that  I  know  of 


sir. 


Oh,  the  case  is  perfectly  plain !  "  said  I,  leaning  back 


i 


n 
o 
o 


187 


The  Triumphs  of  Eugene  Valmont 


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in  my  chair,  and  regarding  the  puzzled  ilale  with  tha 
cherubic  expression  of  self-satisfaction  which  I  know  i 
so  annoying  to  him. 

"What's    perfectly    plain?"    he    demanded,    mon 
gruffly  perhaps  than  etiquette  would  have  sanctioned. 

"  Summertrees  is  no  coiner,  nor  is  he  linked  with  an\ 
band  of  coiners." 

"What  is  he,  then?" 

"  Ah,  that  opens  another  avenue  of  inquiry  !  For 
all  I  know  to  the  contrary,  he  may  be  the  most  honest 
of  men.  On  the  surface  it  would  appear  that  he  is  a 
reasonably  industrious  tradesman  in  Tottenham  Court 
Road,  who  is  anxious  that  there  should  be  no  visible 
connection  between  a  plebeian  employment  and  so  aris- 
tocratic a  reside'  ce  as  that  in  Park  Lane." 

A*  this  point  Spenser  Hale  gave  expression  to  one 
of  those  rare  flashes  of  reason  which  are  always  an  as- 
tonishment to  his  friends. 

"That  is  nonsense,  Monsieur  Valmont,"  he  said; 
"  the  man  who  is  ashamed  of  the  connection  between  his 
business  and  his  house  is  one  who  is  trying  to  get  into 
society,  or  else  the  women  of  his  family  are  trying  it, 
as  is  usually  the  case.  Now  Summertrees  has  no  fan  v. 
He  himself  goes  nowhere,  gives  no  entertainments,  and 
accepts  no  invitations.  He  belongs  to  no  club ;  therefore, 
to  say  that  he  is  ashamed  of  his  connection  with  the 
Tottenham  Court  Road  shop  is  absurd.  He  is  con- 
cealing the  connection  for  some  other  reason  that  will 
bear  looking  into." 

"My  dear  Hale,   the  Goddess  of  Wisdom  herself 

188 


The  Strange  Home  in  Park  Lane 


could  no.  have  made  a  more  sensible  series  of  remarks 

et;::;"r:x-"->----ave.:'; 

Last  n  „.ht,  my  dear  Hale,  you  supposed  this  man 
"•as  ,„  league  with  coiners,    To-d,.y  you  W  he  is  „«" 
1  know  you  sa\  he  is  not  " 

.n,iLg7l'.'"'''''°"'''"''-''"-<'"'^^.ebro^ 
"  It  is  the  same  thing.  Monsieur  Hale  " 
•'Well,  of  all  the  conceited-"  and  the  good  Hale 

could  get  no  farther,  *  " 

"  If  you  wish  my  assistance,  it  is  yours  • 
_^_^  „  N  ery  good.    Not  to  put  ,^  fi„e  a  point  upon  it,  I 

••In  that  case,  my  dear  Podgers,  you  will  return  to 

*    res  dence  of  our  friend  Summertrees,  and  Jirto" 

gchcr  for  me  m  a  bundle  all  of  yesterday's  morning  and 

vcnmg  papers  that  were  delivered  to  the  ho„™     Can 

>o..  do  that,  or  are  they  mixed  up  in  a  heap  in^The  ct" 

:^':ir^:a:i-h--r-r7:^ 

"I.  upon  you  a,  half  past  three  o'clock  exactiv  and  tre" 

189 


s 


n 
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I  want  you  to  take  me  upstairs  to  the  clerk's  bedroon 
in  the  third  stoiy,  whicli  I  suppose  is  not  locked  durinj 
the  daytime?  " 

"  Xo,  sir,  it  is  not." 

With  this  the  patient  Podgers  took  his  departure 
Spenser  Hale  rose  when  his  assistant  left. 

"  Anything  further  I  can  do?  "  he  asked. 

"  Yes ;  give  me  the  address  of  the  shop  in  Totten- 
ham Court  Road.  Do  you  happen  to  have  about  you  on< 
of  those  ne\.'  five-shilling  pieces  which  you  believe  i  be 
illegally  coined  >  " 

He  opened  his  pocketbook,  took  out  the  bit  of  white 
metal,  and  handed  it  to  me. 

"  I'm  going  to  pass  this  oflf  before  evening,"  I  said, 
putting  it  in  my  pocket,  "  and  I  hope  none  of  your  men 
will  airest  me." 

"  That's  all  right,"  laughed  Hale  as  he  took  his  leave. 

At  half  past  three  Podgers  was  wr.iting  for  me,  and 
opened  the  front  door  as  I  came  up  the  steps,  thus  sav- 
ing  me  the  necessity  of  ringing.  The  house  seemed 
strangely  quiet.  The  French  cook  was  evidently  down 
in  the  basement,  and  we  had  probably  all  the  upper  part 
to  ourselves,  unless  Summertrees  was  in  his  study,  which 
I  doubted.  Podgers  led  me  directly  upstairs  to  the 
Clark's  room  on  the  tiiird  floor,  walking  on  tiptoe,  with 
an  elephantine  air  of  silence  and  secrecy  combined,  which 
struck  me  as  unnecessary. 

"  I  will  make  an  examination  of  this  room,"  I  said. 
"  Kindly  wait  for  me  down  by  the  aoor  of  the  study." 
The  bedroom  proved  to  be  of  respectable  size  when 

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when 


The  Strange  TTousc  in  Park  Lane 

I      one  considers  the  smallness  of  the  house.    The  bed  was 
I      all  n,ce!y  made  up.  and  there  were  two  cha  rs  in  the 
;       room.  ^  theusual  washstand  and  swing  mirror  were 
no    visible.     However,  seeing  a  curtain  at  the  farther 
end  of  the  room.  I  drew  it  a.ide.  and  found,  as  I  ex- 
pccted.  a  fixed  lavatory  in  an  alcove  of  perhaps  four 
eet  deep  by  five  in  width.    As  the  room  was  about  fif- 
teen feet  w.de.  this  left  two-thirds  of  the  space  unac- 
counted for.     A  moment  later  I  opened  a  door  which 
exh.l  cd  a  closet  filled  with  clothes  hanging  on  hooks. 
Th.s  left  a  space  of  five  feet  between  the  clothes  closet 
and  the  lavatory.     I  thought  at  first  that  the  entrance 
o  the  secret  stairway  must  have  issued  from  the  lava- 
tory, but  examining  the  boards  closely,  although  they 
sounded  hollow  to  the  knuckles,  they  were  quite  ev.- 
;^ently  plam  match  boarding,  and  not  a  concealed  door 
ihe  entrance  to  the  stairway,  therefore,  must  issue  from 
he  clothes  closet.     The  right-hand  wall  proved  similar 
to  the  match  boarding  of  the  lavatory,  so  far  as  the 
casual  eye  or  touch  was  concerned,  but' I  saw  at  once  it 
-as  a  door.     The  latch    Mrned  out  to  be  somewhat  in- 
gemously  operated  by  one  of  the  hooks  which  held  a 
pa.r  of  old  trousers.     I  found  that  the  hook,  if  pressed 

at  h  W       °"""^'"S^  '^  ^^-   -^ond   floor,   a   similar 

rlT\  T  '■°°"''  '''''  •^^"^'■'^^J  •"  ^'-e.  one  di- 

r    tly  above  the  other,  the  only  difference  being  that 
---om  door  gave  into  the  study,  instead  of  into 
the  hall,  as  was  the  case  with  t'..  upper  chamber. 

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The  study  was  extremely  neat,  cither  not  much  used, 
or  the  abode  of  a  very  methodical  man.  There  was 
nothing  on  the  table  except  a  pile  of  that  morning's 
papers.  I  walked  to  the  farther  end,  turned  the  key 
in  the  lock,  and  came  out  ujwn  the  astonished  Podgers, 

"  Well,  I'm  blowed!  "  exclaimed  he. 

"  Quite  so,"  I  rejoined ;  "  you've  been  tiptoeing  past 
an  empty  room  for  the  last  two  weeks  Nov,  if  you'll 
come  with  me,  Podgers,  I'll  show  you  liow  the  trirk 
is  done." 

When  he  entered  the  study  I  locked  the  door  once 
more,  and  led  the  assumed  butler,  still  tiptoeing  through 
force  of  habit,  up  the  stair  into  the  top  bedroom,  and 
so  out  again,  leaving  everything  exactly  as  we  found 
it.  We  went  down  the  main  stair  to  the  front  hall,  and 
there  Podgers  had  my  parcel  of  papers  all  neatly 
wrapped  up.  This  lundle  I  carried  to  my  fiat,  gave  one 
of  my  assistants  some  instructions,  and  left  him  at  work 
on  the  papers. 


192 


'»".•.!.•.  Ti "»■>*»      _ 


CHAPTER   XVI 


THE    QUEER   SHOP    IN    TOTTENHAM    COURT    ROAD 

TOOK  a  cab  to  the  foot  of  Tottenham 
Court  Road,  and  walked  up  that  street 
till  I  came  to  J.  Simpson's  old  curiosity 
shop.  After  gazing  at  the  well-filled  win- 
dows for  some  time.  I  stepped  inside,  hav- 
ing selected  a  little  iron  crucifix  displayed  behind  the 
pane ;  the  work  of  s<>me  ancient  craftsman. 

I  knew  at  once  from  Podgers's  description  that  I  vas 
waited  upon  by  the  veritable  respectable  clerk  who 
brought  the  bag  of  money  each  night  to  Park  Lane,  and 
who,  I  was  certHin.  was  no  other  than  Ralph  Summer- 
trees  himself. 

There  was  nothing  in  his  manner  differing  from 
that  of  any  other  quiet  salesman.  The  price  of  the  cru- 
cifix proved  to  be  seven-and-six.  and  I  threw  down  a 
sovereign  to  pay  for  it. 

"  Do  you  mind  the  change  being  all  in  silver,  sir ' " 
lie  asked,  and  I  answered  without  any  eagerness,  al- 
though the  question  aroused  a  suspicion  that  had  h^gun 
to  be  allayed :  ^ 

"  Not  in  the  least." 

He  gave  me  half  a  crown,  three  two-shilling  pieces 
and  four  separate  shillings,  all  coins  being  well-worn 

193 


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the  reputable  British  Mint.  This  seemed  to  dispose  of 
the  theory  that  he  was  palming  nff  illegitimate  money. 
He  asked  mc  if  I  were  interested  in  any  particular 
branch  of  antiquity,  and  I  replied  that  my  curiosity  was 
merely  general,  and  exceedingly  amateurish,  whereupon 
he  in^  =ted  me  to  look  around.  This  I  proceeded  to  do, 
while  resumed  the  addressing  and  stamping  of  some 
wrapped-u,.  pamphlets  which  I  surmised  to  be  copies 
of  his  catalogue. 

He  made  no  attempt  eiilicr  to  watch  me  or  to  press 
his  wares  upon  me.  I  selected  at  random  a  little  ink- 
stand, and  asked  its  price.  It  was  two  shillings,  he  said, 
whereupon  I  produced  my  fraudulent  five-shilling  piece. 
He  took  it,  gave  me  the  change  without  comment,  and 
the  last  doubt  about  his  connection  with  coiners  flickered 
from  my  mind. 

At  this  ni  mcnt  a  young  man  came  in  who,  I  saw 
at  once,  was  not  a  customer.  He  walked  briskly  to  the 
farther  end  of  the  shop,  and  disappeared  behind  a  par- 
tition which  had  one  pane  of  glass  in  it  that  gave  an 
outlook  toward  the  front  door. 

"  Excuse  n  a  moment."  said  the  shopkeeper,  and 
ht  followed  the  young  man  into  the  private  office. 

As  I  examined  the  curious  heterogeneous  collection 
of  things  for  sale,  I  heard  the  clink  of  coins  bein^ 
poured  out  on  the  lid  of  a  desk  or  an  uncovered  table, 
and  the  murmur  of  voices  floated  out  to  me.  I  was  now 
near  the  entrance  of  the  shop,  and  by  a  sleight-of-hand 
trick,  keeping;  the  corner  of  m}-  eye  on  the  glass  pane 

194 


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The  Queer  Shop  in  Tottenham  Court  Road 

of  the  private  office.  I  rcmovrd  th..  krv  of  tf.c  front  door 
without  a  sound,  an.l  took  an  impression  of  it  in  wax 
returning  the  key  to  its  place  unobserved.    At  this  mo-' 
nicnt  another  young  man  came  in.  and  walke.l  straight 
past  me  mto  the  private  office.    I  heard  him  say  : 

"Oh.  I  beg  pardon.  Mr.  Simpson!  How  are  vou 
Rogers  ? "  '      ' 

"Hello,  Macpherson."  saluted  Rogers,  who  then 
came  out,  bidding  good  night  to  Mr.  Simpson,  and  de- 
parted, whistling,  down  the  street,  but  not  before  he  had 
repeated  his  phrase  to  another  young  man  entering  to 
whom  he  gave  the  name  of  Tyrrel. 

I  noted  these  three  names  in  mv  mind.    Two  others 
came  m  together,  but  I  was  compelled  to  content  my- 
self with  memorizing  their  features,  for  I  did  not  learn 
the.r  names.     These  men  were  cvidentlv  collectors,  for 
f  heard  the  rattle  of  money  in  every  case;  yet  here  was 
a  small  shop,  doing  apparently  very  little  business,  for 
1  had  been  within  it  for  more  than  half  an  hour,  and  yet 
remained  the  only  customer.     If  credit  were  given   one 
col  ector  would  certainly  have  been  sufficient,  vet'  five 
-ad  come  in.  and  had  poured  their  contributions  into 
the  pile  Summertrees  was  to  t.ke  home  with  him  that 
night. 

I  determined  to  secure  one  of  the  pamphlets  which 
h  ,rr.-  !  .  '"  addressing.  They  were  piled  on  a 
shelf  behind  the  counter,  but  I  had  no  difficulty  in  reach- 
|ng  across  and  taking  the  one  on  top.  which  I  slipped 
■nto  my  pocket.  When  the  fifth  young  man  went  down 
t'K-  street  Summertrees  himself  emerged,  and  this  time 

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TA^  Triumphs  of  Eugene  Valmont 

he  carried  in  his  hand  the  well-filled  locked  leather 
satchel,  with  the  straps  dangling.  It  was  now  approach- 
ing half  past  five,  and  I  saw  he  was  eager  to  close  up 
and  get  away. 

"  Anything  else  you  fancy,  sir  ?  "  he  asked  me. 

"  No,  or,  rather,  yes  and  no.  You  have  a  very  in- 
teresting collection  here,  but  it's  getting  so  dark  I  can 
hardly  see." 

"  I  close  at  half  past  five,  sir." 

"  Ah!  in  that  case,"  I  said,  consulting  my  watch,  "  I 
shall  be  pleased  to  call  some  other  time." 

"  Thank  you,  sir,"  replied  Summertrees  quietly,  and 
with  that  I  took  my  leave. 

From  the  corner  of  an  alley  on  the  other  side  of  the 
street  I  saw  him  put  up  the  shutters  with  his  own  hands, 
then  he  emerged  with  overcoat  on,  and  the  moncv 
satchel  slung  across  his  shoulder.  He  locked  the  door, 
tested  it  with  his  knuckles,  and  walked  down  the  street, 
carrying  under  one  arm  the  pamphlets  he  had  been  ad- 
dressing. I  followed  him  at  some  distance,  saw  him 
drop  the  pamphlets  into  the  box  at  the  first  post  office 
he  passed,  and  walk  rapidly  toward  his  house  in  Park 
Lane. 

When  I  returned  to  my  flat  and  called  in  my  assistant. 
he  said : 

"  After  putting  to  one  side  the  regular  advertisements 
of  pills,  soap,  and  what  not,  here  is  the  only  one  com- 
mon to  all  the  newspapers,  morning  and  evening  alike. 
The  advertisements  are  not  identical,  sir,  but  they  have 
two  points  of  similarity,  or  perhaps  I  should  say  three. 

1 06 


The  Queer  Shop  in  Tottenham  Court  Road 


and 


rhey  all  profess  to  furnish  a  cure  for  absent-mindedness  ; 
they  all  ask  that  the  applicant's  chief  hobby  shall  be 
stated,  and  they  all  bear  the  same  address:  Dr.  Wil- 
loughby,  in  Tottenham  Court  Road." 

"  Thank  you,"  said  I,  as  he  placed  the  scissored  ad- 
vertisements before  me. 

I  read  several  of  the  announcements.     They  were 
all  small,  and  perhaps  that  is  why  I  had  never  noticed 
one  of  them  in  the  newspapers,  for  certainlv  they  were 
odd  enough.     Some  asked   for   lists  of  ;.bsent-minded 
men,  with  the  hobbies  of  each,  and  for  these  lists,  prizes 
of  from  one  shilling  to  six  were  oflfered.    In  other  clip- 
pings Dr.  Willoughby  professed  to  be  able  to  cure  ab- 
sent-mindedness.   There  were  no  fees  and  no  treatment, 
but  a  pamphlet  would  be  sent,  which,  if  it  did  not  bene- 
fit the  receiver,  could  do  no  harm.     The  doctor  was 
unable  to  meet  patients  personally,  nor  could  he  enter 
into  correspondence  with  them.     The  address  was  the 
same  as  that  of  the  old  curiosity  shop  in  Tottenham 
Court  Road.     At  this  juncture  I  pulled  the  pamphlet 
from  my  pocket,  and  saw  it  was  entitled,  "Christian 
Science  and  Absent-Mindedness,"  by  Dr.  Stamford  Wil- 
loughby, and  at  the  end  of  the  article  was  the  state- 
ment contained   in   the  advertisements,   that   Dr.   Wil- 
loughby   would    neither    see    patients    nor    hold    any 
correspondence  with  them. 

I  drew  a  sheet  of  paper  toward  me,  wrote  to  Dr. 
Willoughby,  alleging  that  I  was  a  very  absent-minded 
man,  and  would  be  glad  of  his  pamphlet,  adding  that 
my  special  hobby  was  the  collecting  of  first  editions. 

197 


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The  Triumphs  of  Eugene  Valmont 

I  then  signed  myself,  "  Alport  Webster,  Imperial  Flat«>, 
London,  W." 

I  may  here  explain  that  it  is  often  necessary  for 
me  to  see  people  under  some  other  name  than  the  well- 
known  appellation  of  Eugene  Valmont.  There  are  two 
doors  to  my  flat,  and  on  one  of  these  is  painted,  "  Eu- 
gene Valmont  " ;  on  the  other  there  is  a  receptacle,  into 
which  can  be  slipped  a  sliding  panel  bearing  any  nom 
de  giicrrc  I  choose.  The  same  device  is  arranged  on  the 
ground  floor,  where  the  names  of  all  the  occupants  of 
the  building  appear  on  the  right-hand  wall. 

I  sealed,  addressed,  and  stamped  my  letter,  then  told 
my  man  to  put  out  the  name  of  Alport  Webster,  and 
if  I  did  not  happen  to  be  in  when  anyone  called  upon 
that  mythical  person,  he  was  to  make  an  appointment 
for  me. 

It  was  nearly  six  o'clock  next  afternoon  when  the 
card  of  Angus  Macpherson  was  brought  in  to  Mr.  Alport 
Webster.  I  recognized  the  young  man  at  once  as  the 
second  who  had  entered  the  little  shop,  carrying  his 
tribute  to  Mr.  Simpson  the  day  before.  He  held  three 
volumes  under  his  ?'  n,  and  spoke  in  such  a  pleasant, 
insinuating  sort  of  way,  that  I  knew  at  once  he  was  an 
adept  in  his  profession  of  canvasser. 

"  Will  you  be  seated,  Mr.  Macpherson?  In  what  can 
I  serve  you  ? " 

He  placed  the  three  volumes,  backs  upward,  on  my 
table. 

"  Are  you  interested  at  all  in  first  editions,  Mr. 
Webster?" 

198 


The  Queer  Shop  in  Tottenham  Court  Road 


m  my     ^ 


Mr. 


"  It  is  the  one  thing  I  am  interested  in,"  I  replied ; 
"  but  unfortunately  they  often  run  into  a  lot  of  money." 

"That  is  true,"  said  Alacpherson  sympathetically, 
"  and  I  have  here  three  books,  one  of  which  is  an  exem- 
plification of  what  you  say.  This  one  costs  a  hundred 
pounds.  The  last  copy  that  was  sold  by  auction  in  Lon- 
don brought  a  hundred  and  twenty-three  pounds.  This 
next  one  is  forty  pounds,  and  the  third  ten  pounds.  At 
these  prices  I  am  ceuain  you  could  not  duplicate  three 
such  treasures  in  any  bookshop  in  Britain." 

I  ex  ined  them  critically,  and  saw  at  once  that 
what  he  said  was  true.  He  was  still  standing  on  the  op- 
posite side  of  the  table. 

"  Please  take  a  chair.  Mr.  Macpherson.  Do  you 
mean  to  say  you  go  round  London  with  a  hundred  and 
fifty  pounds'  worth  of  goods  under  your  arm  in  this 
careless  way  ?  " 

The  young  man  laughed. 

"  I  run  very  little  risk,  Mr.  Webster.  I  don't  sup- 
pose anyone  I  meet  imagines  for  a  moment  there  is 
more  under  my  arm  than  perhaps  a  trio  of  volumes 
I  have  picked  up  in  the  fourpenny  box  to  take  home 
with  me." 

I  lingered  over  the  volume  for  which  he  asked  a 
hundred  pounds,  then  said,  looking  across  at  him: 

"  How  came  you  to  be  possessed  of  this  book,  for  in- 
stance ?  " 

He  turned  upon  me  a  fine,  open  countenance,  and 
answered  without  hesitation  in  the  frankest  possible 
manner : 

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*»,, 

*  ""11. 

The  Triumphs  of  Eugene  Valmont 

"  I  am  not  in  actual  possession  of  it,  Mr,  Webster. 
I  am  by  way  of  being  a  connoisseur  in  rare  and  valuable 
books  myself,  although,  of  course,  I  have  little  money 
with  which  to  indulge  in  the  collection  of  them.  I  am 
acquainted,  however,  with  the  lovers  of  desirable  books 
in  different  quarters  of  London.  These  three  volumes, 
for  instance,  are  from  the  library  of  a  private  gentleman 
in  the  West  End.  I  have  sold  many  books  to  him,  and 
he  knows  I  am  trustworthy.  He  wishes  to  dispose  of 
them  at  something  under  their  real  value,  and  has  kindly 
allowed  me  to  conduct  the  negotiations.  I  make  it  my 
business  to  find  out  those  who  are  interested  in  rare 
books,  and  by  such  trading  I  add  considerably  to  my 
income." 

"  How,  for  instance,  did  you  learn  that  I  was  a  bib- 
liophile?" 

Mr.  Macpherson  laughed  genially. 

"  Well,  Mr.  Webster,  I  must  confess  that  I  chanced 
it.  I  do  that  very  often.  I  take  a  flat  like  this,  and 
send  in  my  card  to  the  name  on  the  door.  If  I  am 
invited  in,  I  ask  the  occupant  the  question  I  asked  you 
just  now:  '  Are  you  interested  in  rare  editions?'  If  he 
says  no,  I  simply  beg  pardon  and  retire.  If  he  says  yes, 
then  I  show  my  wares." 

"  I  see,"  said  I,  nodding.  What  a  glib  young  liar  he 
was,  with  that  innocent  face  of  his,  and  yet  my  next 
question  brought  forth  the  truth. 

"  As  this  is  the  first  time  you  have  called  upon  me, 
Mr,  Macpherson,  you  have  no  objection  lo  my  making 
some  further  inquiry,  I  suppose.    Would  you  mind  tell- 

200 


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The  Queer  Shop  in  Tottenham  Court  Road 

ing  me  the  name  of  the  owner  of  these  books  in  the 
West  End?" 

"His  name  is  Mr.  Ralph  Summertrees,  of  Park 
Lane." 

"  Of  Park  Lane?    Ah,  indeed!  " 

"  I  shall  be  glad  to  leave  the  books  with  you,  Mr. 
Webster,  and  if  you  care  to  make  an  appointment'  with 
Mr.  Summertrees,  I  am  sure  he  will  not  object  to  say 
a  word  '  •  my  favor." 

"  Oh,  I  do  not  in  the  least  doubt  it,  and  should  not 
think  of  troubling  the  gentleman." 

"  I  was  going  to  tell  you,"  went  on  the  young  man, 
"  that  I  have  a  friend,  a  capitalist,  who,  in  a  way,  is 
my  supporter;  for,  as  I  said,  I  have  little  money  of  my 
own.  I  find  it  is  often  inconvenient  for  people  to  pay 
down  any  considerable  sum.  When,  however,  I  strike 
a  bargain,  my  capitalist  buys  the  books,  and  I  make 
an  arrangement  with  my  customer  to  pay  a  certain 
amount  each  week,  and  so  even  a  'arge  purchase  is  not 
felt,  as  I  make  the  installments  small  enough  to  suit 
my  client." 

"You  are  employed  during  the  day,  I  take  it?" 
"  Yes,  I  am  a  clerk  in  the  City." 
Again  we  were  in  the  blissftil  realms  of  fiction ! 
"  Suppose  I  take  this  book  at  ten  pounds,  what  in- 
stallments should  I  have  to  pay  each  week? ' 

"Oh,  what  you  like,  sir.     Would  five  shillings  be 
too  much  ? " 

"  I  think  not." 

"Very  well,  sir;  if  y.         .y  nie  f.vc  ...llings  now, 

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The  Triumphs  of  Eugene  Valmont 

I  will  leave  the  book  with  you,  and  shall  have  pleasure 
in  calling  this  day  week  for  the  next  installment." 

I  put  my  hand  into  my  pocket,  and  drew  out  tv/o 
half  crowns,  which  I  passed  over  to  him. 

"  Do  I  need  to  sign  any  form  or  undertaking  to  pay 
the  rest?" 

The  young  man  laughed  cordially. 

"  Oh,  no,  sir,  there  is  no  formality  necessary.  You 
see,  sir,  this  is  largely  a  labor  of  love  with  me,  although 
I  don't  deny  I  have  my  eye  on  the  future.  I  am  getting 
together  what  I  hope  will  be  a  very  valuable  connection 
with  gentlemen  like  yourself  who  are  fond  of  books,  and 
I  trust  some  day  that  I  may  be  able  to  resign  my  place 
with  the  insurai.oe  company  and  set  up  a  choice  little 
business  of  my  own,  where  my  knowledge  of  values 
in  literature  will  prove  useful." 

And  then,  after  making  a  note  in  a  little  book  he  took 
from  his  pocket,  he  bade  me  a  most  graceful  good-by 
and  departed,  leaving  me  cogitating  over  what  it  all 
meant. 

Next  morning  two  articles  were  handed  to  ine.  The 
first  came  by  post  and  was  a  pamphlet  on  "  Christian 
Science  nnd  Absent-Mindedness,"  exactly  similar  to  the 
one  I  had  taken  away  from  the  old  curiosity  shop;  the 
second  was  a  small  key  made  from  my  wax  impression 
that  would  fit  the  front  door  of  the  same  shop — a  key 
fashioned  by  an  excellent  anarchist  friend  of  mine  in 
an  obscure  street  near  Holborn. 

That  night  at  ten  o'clock  I  was  inside  the  old 
curiosity  shop,  with  a  small  storage  battery  in  my  pocket, 

202 


I       "^  Q"'"  ^''"P  '"  Touenham  Court  Road 

I     and  a  littl.  electric  glowlamp  a,  my  buttonhole,  a  most 
I     use  ul  mstrumen.  for  either  burglar  or  detective 

'  in  \  ^Xf  ■^''"''  '"^  •"*  °'  "-  -tablishn^en. 
ma  safe,  „h,ch,  ,f  „  „as  sin,ilar  to  the  one  in  Park 
Lane,  I  was  prepared  to  open  ,vi,h  ,l,e  false  kovs  in 

and  trust  to  my  anarchist  frien.l  for  the  rest      But  to 

my  amazement  I  discovered  ill  il„.  „, 

to  ili»  ^»  ■         '■''>"-™l  an   the  papers   pertain  ng 

to  the  concern  m  a  desk  which  was  not  even  locked 

The  books,  three  in  number,  were  the  ordinarv  dav^k' 

journal   and  lecteer  referring  to  the  shop:  bookk  e^ng 

"f   he  older  fash.on;  but  in  a  portfolio  lav  half  a  doze^ 

foolscap   sheets,    headed,   ■•  Mr.    Rogers's    List  "    "  M 

Macpherson's,''  "  Mr  Tvrrer=  "  .1,  ,  . 

learned  »n,i  ^,  ' ^^"""^  '■    ""=  "ames  I  had  alreadv 

rim'       "  ■    "■"""  ''^'^  ^""'^'""l  -  *e 

«>e  thtrd,  sums  of  money;  an<l  then   in  the  small 
n..are  places   following   were  amounts   ranging  fTom 
wo-and.s,xpence  to  a  pound.     At  the  bottom  of  Tl" 
J  Macpherson-s  list  was  the  name  Alport  Webster    Tm 

n,mngs.    These  s,x  sheets,  each  headed  bv  a    mvasser's 

'  ad  1""  '"'"""^  ""  ^^^o^"  °'  "--  ""™ 
hat  ";.r°^""^  °f  ""^  -'■«'■=  ""ng  was  so  ap  aren 

ha:d?d  "a?  ;::::•:■ ' "°'""  "^^^  <-'"-  -'  -p-^- 

^'andinV™  f  "^"./r  '°°"  '"  ^  """  P""'"""'  but 
■>*ng  on  a  snelf  above  the  desk  were  a  number  of 

203 


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r/i^  Triumphs  of  Eugene  Vo.lmont 

fat  volumes,  one  of  which  I  took  down,  and  saw  tha' 
it  contained  similar  lists  running  back  several  years.  J 
noticed  on  Mr.  Macpherson's  current  list  the  name  o 
Lord  Semptam,  an  eccentric  old  nobleman  whom  I  knev 
slightly.  Then  turning  to  the  list  immediately  bcfori 
the  current  one  the  name  was  still  there;  I  traced  i 
back  through  list  after  list  until  I  found  the  first  entry 
which  was  no  less  than  three  years  previous,  and  then 
Lord  Semptam  was  down  for  a  piece  of  furniture  costiiu 
fifty  pounds,  and  on  that  account  he  had  paid  a  pounc 
a  week  for  more  than  three  years,  totaling  a  hundrcn 
and  seventy  pounds  at  the  least,  and  instantly  the  glo 
rious  simplicity  of  the  scheme  dawned  upon  me,  and 
became  so  interested  in  the  swindle  that  I  lit  the  ^as 
fearing  my  little  lamp  would  be  exhausted  before  nv 
investigation  ended,  for  it  promised  to  be  a  long  one. 

In  several  instances  the  intended  victim  provei 
shrewder  than  old  Simpson  had  counted  upon,  and  tli 
word  "  Settled  "  had  been  written  on  the  line  carrylni 
the  name  when  the  exact  number  of  installments  \va 
paid.  But  as  these  shrewd  persons  dropped  out,  other 
took  their  places,  and  Simpson's  dependence  on  thei 
absent-mindedness  seemed  to  be  justified  in  nine  case 
out  of  ten.  His  collectors  were  collecting  long  after  th 
debt  had  been  paid.  In  Lord  Semptam's  case,  the  pay 
ment  had  evidently  become  chronic,  and  the  old  inai 
was  giving  away  his  pound  a  week  to  the  suave  Mac 
pherson  two  years  after  his  debt  had  been  liquidated. 

From  the  big  volume  I  detached  the  loose  leaf,  date( 
1893,  which  recorded  Lord  Semptam's  purchase  of  < 

204 


The  Queer  Shop  in  Tottenham  Court  Road 

carved  table  for  fifty  pounds,  and  on  which  he  had  been 
Pc^^mg  a  pound  a  week  from  that  time  to  the  date  of 
which  I  am  writing,  which  was  November,  1896     This 
smgle  document,  taken  from  the  file  of  three  years  pre- 
vious, was  not  likely  to  be  missed,  as  would  have  been 
the  case  if  I  had  selected  a  current  sheet.    I  neverthe- 
less made  a  copy  of  the  names  and  addresses  of  Mac- 
l.iierson's  present  clients;  then,  carefully  placing  every- 
thing exactly  as  I  had  found  it,  !  extinguished  the  gas. 
and  went  out  of  the  shop,  locking  the  door  behind  me 
With  the  1893  sheet  in  my  pocket  I  resolved  to  prepare 
a  pleasant  little  surprise  for  my  suave  friend  Macpher- 
son  when  he  called  to  get  his  next  installment  of  five 
shillings. 

Late  as  was  the  hour  when   I   reached   Trafalgar 
Square,  I  could  not  deprive  myself  of  the  felicity  of 
calling  on  Mr.  Spenser  Hale,  who  I  knew  was  then  on 
fluty.    He  never  appeared  at  his  best  during  office  hours 
because  officialism  stiflfened  his  stalwart  frame.     Men- 
tally he  was  impressed  with  the  importance  of  his  po- 
sition, and  added  to  this  he  was  not  then  allowed  to 
smoke  his  big  black  pipe  and  terrible  tobacco.     He  re- 
ceived me  with  the  curtness  I  had  been  taught  to  expect 
\vhen  I  inflicted  myself  upon  him  at  his  office.     He 
greeted  me  abruptly  with : 

"  I  say,  Valmont,  how  long  do  you  expect  to  be  on 
this  job?" 

"  What  job?  "  I  asked  mildly. 

"Oh,  you   know   what   I   mean:   the   Summertrees 
affair?  " 


3 

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205 


The  Triumphs  of  Eugene  Valmont 


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"  Oh,  that !  "  I  exclaimed,  with  surprise.  "  The  Sur 
mertrees  case  is  already  completed,  of  course.  If  I  hj 
known  you  were  in  a  hurry,  I  should  have  finished  t 
everything  yesterday,  but  as  you  and  Podgers.  and 
don't  know  how  many  more,  have  been  at  it  5;xtc( 
or  seventeen  days,  if  not  longer,  I  thought  I  migl 
venture  to  take  as  many  hours,  as  f  am  workir 
entirely  alone.  You  said  nothing  about  haste,  yr 
know." 

"Oh,  come  now,  Valmont,  that's  a  bit  thick.  E 
you  mean  to  nv  you  have  already  got  evidence  again 
the  man  ? " 

"  Evidence  absolute  and  complete." 

"  Then  who  are  the  coiners  ?  " 

"  My  most  estimable  friend,  how  often  have  I  tol 
you  not  to  jump  at  conclusions?  I  informed  you  whe 
you  first  spoke  to  me  about  the  matter  that  Summct 
trees  was  neither  a  coiner  nor  a  confederate  of  coiner; 
I  secured  evidence  sufficient  to  convict  him  of  quite  an 
other  oflFense,  which  is  probably  unique  in  the  annals  o 
crime.  I  have  penetrated  the  mystery  of  the  shop,  an^ 
discovered  the  reason  for  all  those  suspicious  action 
which  quite  properly  set  you  on  his  trail.  Now  I  wisl 
you  to  come  to  my  flat  next  Wednesday  night  at  ; 
quarter  to  six,  prepared  to  make  an  arrest." 

"I  must  know  whom  I  am  to  arrest,  and  on  whai 
counts." 

"  Quite  so,  mon  ami  Hale ;  I  did  not  say  you  were 
to  make  an  arrest,  but  merely  warned  you  to  be  prepared 
If  you  have  time  now  to  listen  to  the  disclosures,  I  am 

206 


i'jl 


The  Queer  Shop  in  Tottenham  Court  Road 

quite  at  your  service.  I  promise  you  there  are  some 
ongmal  features  in  the  case.  If,  however,  the  present 
moment  ts  inopportune,  drop  in  on  me  at  your  con- 
venience previously  telephoning  so  that  you  may  know 
whether  I  am  there  or  not.  and  thus  your  valuable  time 
will  not  be  expended  purposelessly." 

With  this  I  presented  to  him  my  most  courteous  bow. 
and  althoii^h  his  mystified  expression  hinted  a  suspicion 
that  he  thoufe-ht  I  was  chaffing  him.  as  he  would  call  it 
official  dignity  dissolved  somewhat,  and  he  intimated  his' 
des^e  to  hear  all  about  it  then  and  there.  I  had  suc- 
ceeded m  arousing  my  friend  Hale's  curiosity.  He  lis- 
tened  to  the  evidence  with  perplexed  brow,  and  at  last 
ejaculated  he  would  be  blessed. 

"  This  young  man."  I  said,  in  conclusion.  "  wiH  call 
upon  me  at  six  on  Wednesday  afternoon,  to  receive  his 
second  five  shillings.  I  propose  that  you.  in  your  uni- 
form, shall  be  seated  there  with  me  to  receive  him.  and  I 
am  anx.ous  to  study  Mr.  Macpherson's  countenance 
when  he  realizes  he  has  walked  in  to  confront  a  police- 
man. If  you  will  then  allow  me  to  cross-examine  him  for 
a   ew  moments,  not  after  the  manner  of  Scotland  Yard 

Tree  a'7™"!  'T  ''  '"'""'"^^^  '^^'''''  ^"*  '"  the' 

ValZnr^"'  ^^onderful  flow  of  langtiage.  Monsieur 

on  hand./"         °"'"'''  '"'"^^  *°  ^'-     "  '  ^^^'^  ^ 
on  hand  at  a  quarter  to  six  on  Wednesday  " 

Meanwhile. '  said  r-kinc^: -say  nothing  of  this  to 

207 


1 


T/ie  Triumphs  of  Eugene  Valmont 


anyone.  VVc  must  arrange  a  complete  surprise  for  Mac- 
pherson.  That  is  essential.  Please  make  no  move  in 
the  matter  at  all  until  Wednesday  night." 

Spcns'-r  Hale,  much  impressed,  nodded  acquiescence, 
and  I  took  a  polite  leave  of  him. 


208 


CHAPTER   XVir 


THE   ABSKN'T-MINDKD   COTERIE 

IHE   question   of  lighting   is   an   important 
one  in  a  room  such  as  mine,  and  electricity 
oflfers  a  good  deal  of  scope  to  tiie  ingen- 
ious.    Of  this  fact  I  have  taken  full  ad- 
vantage.     I  can  manipulate  the  lighting 
of  my  room  so  that  any  particular  spot  is  bathed  in 
bnlhancy,  whde  the  rest  of  the  space  remains  in  com- 
parat.vc  gloom    and  I  arranged  the  lamps  so  that  the 
full  force  of  the.r  rays  impinged  against  the  door  that 
Wednesday  evening,  while  I  sat  on  one  side  of  the  table 
m  sem.darkness  and  Hale  sat  on  the  other,  with  a  light 
beatmg  down  on  him  from  above  which  gave  him  the 
odd  sculptured  look  of  a  living  statue  of  Justice,  stem 
and  triumphant.    Anyone  entering  the  room  would  first 
^dazzled  by  the  light,  and  next  would  see  the  gigantic 
form  of  Hale  m  the  full  uniform  of  his  order 

When  Angus  Macpherson  was  shown  into  this  room 

^  tn.nk  his  first  purpose  was  to  turn  and  run,  but  the 
door  closed  behind  him.  and  he  doubtless  heard,  as  we 

rii^!;^r ''' '-'  ^^"^ ''-''  -  '^  ^^- 

209 


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7"^^  Triumphs  of  Eugene  Valmont 

"  I — I  beg  your  pardon,"  he  stammered,  "  I  expected 
to  meet  Mr.  Webster." 

As  he  said  this,  I  pressed  the  button  under  ,my  table, 
and  was  instantly  enshrouded  with  light.  A  sickly  smile 
overspread  the  countenance  of  Macpherson  as  he  caught 
sight  of  me,  and  he  made  a  very  creditable  attempt  to 
carry  off  the  situation  with  nonchalance. 

"  Oh,  there  you  are,  Mr.  Webster ;  I  did  not  notice 
you  at  first." 

It  was  a  tense  moment.  I  spoke  slowly  and  im- 
pressively. 

"  Sir,  perhaps  you  are  not  unacquainted  with  the 
name  of  Eugene  Valmont." 

He  replied  brazenly: 

"  I  am  sorry  to  say,  sir,  1  never  heard  of  the  gen- 
tleman before." 

At  this  came  a  most  inopportune  "  Haw-haw  "  from 
that  blockhead  Spenser  Hale,  completely  spoiling  the 
dramatic  situation  I  had  elaborated  with  such  thought 
and  care.  It  is  little  wonder  the  English  possess  no 
drama,  for  they  show  scant  appreciation  of  the  sen- 
sational moments  in  life ;  they  are  not  quickly  alive  to  the 
lights  and  shadows  of  events. 

"  Haw-haw,"  brayed  Spenser  Hale,  and  at  once  re- 
duced the  emotional  atmosphere  to  a  fog  of  common- 
place. However,  what  is  a  man  to  do  ?  He  must  handle 
the  tools  with  which  it  pleases  Providence  to  provide 
him.     I  ignored  Hale's  untimely  laughter. 

"  Sit  down,  sir,"  I  said  to  Macpherson,  and  he 
obeyed. 

2IO 


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mL.:^^-"^: 


The  Absent-minded  Coterie 


"You  have  called  on  Lord  Sc,  .ptam  thi>  -vek/'  I 
continued  sternly. 
"  Yes,  sir." 

"  And  collected  a  pound  from  him  ?  " 
"  Yes,  sir." 

"  ^"  October,  1893,  you  sold  Lord  Semptam  a  carved 
antique  table  for  fifty  pounds  ?  " 

"  Quite  right,  sir." 

"  When  you  were  here  last  week  you  rnve  me  Ralph 
Summertrees  as  the  name  of  a  gentleman  livintr  in  Park 
Lane.  You  knew  at  the  time  that  this  man  was  your 
employer  ?  " 

Macpherson  was  now  looking  fixedly  at  me,  and  on 
this  occasion  made  no  reply.    I  went  on  calmly  : 

"  You  also  knew  that  Summertrees,  of  Park  Lane 
was  Identical  with  Simpson,  of  Tottenham  Court 
Road  ?  " 

"  Well,  sir,"  said  Macpherson.  "  I  don't  exactly  see 
what  you're  driving  at,  but  it's  quite  usual  for  a  man 
to  -arry  on  a  business  under  an  assumed  name.  There 
IS  nothing  illegal  about  that." 

"  We  will  come  to  the  illegality  in  a  moment.  Mr 
Macpherson.  You  and  Rogers  and  Tvrrel  and  three 
others  are  confederates  of  this  man  Simpson." 

"  We  are  in  his  employ ;  yes,  sir,  but  no  more  con- 
tederates  than  clerks  usually  are." 

"  I  think,  Mr.  Macpherson,  l  have  said  enough  to 
show  you  that  the  game  is  what  you  call  up  You 
are  now  in  the  presence  of  Mr.  Spenser  Hale,  from 
Scotland  Yard,  who  is  waiting  to  hear  your  confession." 

211 


1 


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The  Triumphs  of  Eugene  Valmont 


•«.    »*IMIII||. 
V;  ».  ,, 

»■•  "'•^sih..,,.. 


Here  the  stupid  Hale  broke  in  with  his : 

"And   remember,   sir,   that   anything   you   say   will 

be " 

"Excuse  me,  Mr.  Hale,"  I  interrupted  hastily,  "I 
shall  turn  over  the  case  to  you  in  a  very  few  moments, 
but  I  ask  you  to  remember  our  compact,  and  to  leave 
it  for  the  present  entirely  in  my  hands.  Now,  Mr.  Mac- 
pherson,  I  want  your  confession,  and  I  want  it  at  once." 

"Confession?  Confederates?"  protested  Macpher- 
son,  with  admirably  simulated  surprise.  "  I  must  say 
you  use  extraordinary  terms,  Mr.— Mr.—  What  did  you 
say  the  name  was  ?  " 

"  Haw-haw,"  roared  Hale.    "  His  name  is  Monsieur 

Valmont." 

"  I  implore  you,  Mr.  Hale,  to  leave  this  man  to  nic 
for  a  very  few  moments.  Now,  Macphcrson,  what  have 
you  to  say  in  your  defense?  " 

"  Where  nothing  criminal  has  been  alleged.  Monsieur 
Valmont,  I  see  no  necessity  for  defense.  If  you  wish 
me  to  admit  that  somehow  you  have  acquired  a  num- 
ber of  details  regarding  our  business,  I  am  perfectly  will- 
ing to  do  so,  and  to  subscribe  to  their  accuracy.  If  you 
will  be  good  enough  to  let  me  know  of  what  you  com- 
plain, I  shall  endeavor  to  make  the  point  clear  to  you,  if 
I  can.  There  has  evidently  been  some  misapprehension, 
but  for  the  life  of  me,  without  further  explanation,  I 
am  as  much  in  a  fog  as  I  was  en  my  way  coming  here, 
for  it  is  getting  a  little  thick  outside." 

Macpherson  certainly  was  conducting  himself  with 
great  discretion,  and  presented,  quite  unconsciously,  a 

212 


I'  ;v 


The  Absent-minued  Coterie 


much  more  diplomatic  figure  than  my  friend  Spenser 
Hale,  silLing  stiffly  opposite  me.  His  tone  was  one  of 
mild  expostulation,  mitigated  by  the  intimation  that  all 
misunderstanding  speedily  would  be  cleared  away.  To 
outward  view  he  offered  a  perfect  picture  of  innocence, 
neither  protesting  too  much  nor  too  little.  I  had,  how- 
ever, another  surprise  in  store  for  him,  a  trump  card, 
as  it  were,  and  I  played  it  down  on  the  table. 

"  There !  "  I  cried  with  vim,  "  have  you  ever  seen 
that  sheet  before?  " 

He  glanced  at  it  without  offering  to  take  it  in  his 
hand. 

"  Oh,  yes,"  he  said,  "  that  has  been  abstracted  from 
our  file.    It  is  what  I  call  my  visiting  list." 

"  Come,  come,  sir,"  I  cried  sternly,  "  you  refuse  to 
confess,  but  I  warn  you  we  know  nil  about  it.  You 
never  heard  of  Dr.  Willoughby,  1  --se?" 

"  Yes,   he   is  the  author   of  t.  -y   pamphlet   on 

Christian  Science." 

"  You  are  in  the  right,  Mr.  Macpherson ;  on  Chris- 
tian Science  and  Absent-Mindedness." 

"  Possibly.    I  haven't  read  it  for  a  long  while." 

"  Have  you  ever  met  this  learned  doctor,  Mr.  Mac- 
pherson?  " 

"  Oh,  yes.  Dr.  Willoughby  is  the  pen  name  of  Mr. 
Sunimertrees.  He  believes  in  Christian  Science  and 
that  sort  of  thing,  and  writes  about  it." 

"  Ah,  really.  We  are  getting  your  confession  bit  by 
bit,  Mr,  ;Macpherson.  I  think  it  would  be  better  to  be 
quite  frank  with  us." 

213 


1 

i 


The  Triumphs  of  Eugene  Valmont 


^     ■'••-•■I.-  , . 

^*  •  ^  ™*  lis  ^  . 


"  I  was  just  going  to  make  the  same  sur  estion 
to  you,  Monsieur  Valmont.  If  you  will  tell  me  in  a 
few  words  exactly  what  is  your  charge  against  either 
Mr.  Summertrees  or  myself,  I  will  know  then  what 
to  say." 

"  We  charge  you,  sir,  with  obtaining  money  under 
false  pretenses,  which  is  a  crime  that  has  landed  more 
than  one  distinguished  financier  in  prison." 

Spenser  Hale  shook  his  fat  forefinger  at  me,  and 
said: 

"  Tut,  tut,  Valmont ;  we  mustn't  threaten,  we 
mustn't  threaten,  you  know  " ;  but  I  went  on  without 
heeding  him. 

"  Take,  for  instance,  Lord  Semptam.  You  sold  him 
a  table  for  fifty  pounds,  on  the  installment  plan.  He  was 
to  pay  a  pound  a  week,  and  in  less  than  a  year  the  debt 
was  liquidated.  But  he  is  an  absent-minded  man,  as  all 
your  clients  are.  That  is  why  you  came  to  me.  I  had 
answered  the  bogus  Willoughby's  advertisement.  An.l 
so  you  kept  on  collecting  and  collecting  for  something 
more  than  three  years.  Now  do  you  understand  the 
charge? " 

Mr.  Macpherson's  head,  during  this  accusation,  was 
held  slightly  inclined  to  one  side.  At  first  his  face  was 
clouded  by  the  most  clever  imitation  of  anxious  con- 
centration of  mind  I  had  ever  seen,  and  this  was  gradu- 
ally cleared  away  by  the  dawn  of  awakening  perception. 
When  I  had  finished,  an  ingratiating  smile  hovered  about 
his  lips. 

"  Really,  you  know,"  he  said,  "  that  is  rather  a  capital 

214 


f.^.Klna^r.mf.'^mma, 


mw 


The  /Ibsent-minded  Coterie 


scheme.     The  absent-minded  league,  as  one  might  call 
them.     Most  ingenious.     Summertrees,  if  he  had  any 
sense  of  humor,  which  he  hasn't,  would  be  rather  taken 
by  the  idea  that  his  innocent  fad  for  Christian  Science 
had  led  him  to  be  suspected  of  obtaining  money  under 
false  pretenses.     But,  really,  there  are  no  pretensions 
about  the  matter  at  all.     As  I  understand  it,  I  simply 
call  and  receive  the  money  through  the  forgetfulness  of 
the  persons  on  my  list,  but  where  I  think  you  would 
nave  both  Summertrees  and  myself,  if  there  was  any- 
thing in  your  audacious  theory,  would  be  an  indictment 
fy  conspiracy.    Still,  I  quite  see  how  the  mistake  arises. 
You  have  jumped  to  the  conclusion  that  we  sold  nothing 
to  Lord  Semptam  except  that  carved  table  three  years 
ago.     I  have  pleasure  in  pointing  out  to  you  that  his 
lordship  is  a  frequent  customer  of  ours,  and  has  had 
many  things  from  us  at  one  time  or  another.    Sometimes 
he  is  in  our  debt ;  sometimes  we  are  in  his.    We  keep  a 
sort  of  running  contract  with  him  by  which  he  pays 
us  a  pound  a  week.     He  and  several  other  customers 
deal  on  the  same  plan,  and  in  return,  for  an  income  that 

I  we  can  count  upon,  they  get  the  first  oflfer  of  anything 
in  which  they  are  supposed  to  be  interested.  As  I  have 
told  you,  we  call  these  sheets  in  the  office  our  visiting 
lists,  but  to  make  the  visiting  lists  complete  you  need 
what  we  term  our  encyclopedia.  We  call  it  that  be- 
cause it  is  in  so  many  volumes ;  a  volume  for  each  year, 

I  running  back  I  don't  know  how  long.  You  will  notice 
little  figures  here  from  time  to  time  above  the  amount 
stated  on  this  visiting  list.     These  figures  refer  to  the 

215 


3 


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The  Triumphs  of  Eugene  Valmont 


\    -■ 


page  of  the  encyclopedia  for  the  current  year,  and  o 
that  page  is  noted  the  n°w  sale  and  the  amount  of  i 
as  it  might  be  set  down,  say,  in  a  ledger." 

"  That  is  a  very  entertaining  explanation,  Mr.  Mac 
pherson.  I  suppose  this  encyclopedia,  as  you  call  ii 
is  in  the  shop  ?.c  Tottenham  Court  Road  ?  " 

"  Oh,  no,  sir.  Each  volume  of  the  encyclopedia  i 
self-locking.  These  books  contain  the  real  secret  of  on 
business,  and  they  are  kept  in  the  safe  at  Mr.  Sum 
mertrees's  house  in  Park  Lane.  Take  Lord  Semptam"; 
account,  for  instance.  You  will  find  in  faint  figure: 
under  a  certain  date,  102.  If  you  turn  to  page  102  0 
the  encyclopedia  for  that  year,  you  will  then  see  a  lis 
of  what  Lord  Semptam  has  bought,  and  the  prices  ht 
was  charged  for  them.  It  is  real'.y  a  very  simple  matter 
If  you  will  allow  me  to  use  your  telephone  for  a  moment 
I  will  ask  Mr.  Summertrees  who  has  not  yet  begun 
dinner,  to  bring  with  him  here  the  volnmc  for  1893,  aufi 
within  a  quarter  of  an  hour  you  will  be  perfectly  satisfied 
that  everything  is  quite  legitimate." 

I  confess  that  the  young  man's  naturalness  and  con- 
fidence staggered  me,  the  more  so  as  I  saw  by  the  sar- 
castic smile  on  Hale's  lips  that  he  did  not  believe  a  sinj,'le 
word  spoken.  A  portable  telephone  stood  on  the  ta!)k\ 
and  as  Macpherson  finished  his  explanation,  he  readied 
over  and  drew  it  toward  him.  Then  Spenser  Ilalc 
interfered. 

"Excuse   me,"  he  said,   "I'll   do   the   telephoning 
What  is  the  call  number  of  Mr.  Summertrees  ?  " 
"  One  forty  Hyde  Park." 

216 


\m  .■ 


The  Absent-minded  Coterie 


1 


Hale  at  once  called  up  Central,  and  presently  was 
answered  from  Park  Lane.    We  heard  him  say: 

"Is  this  the  residence  of  Mr.  Summertrees'     Oh 
IS  that  you,  Podgers?    Is  Mr.  Sunimertrees  in.^     Very 
well.    This  is  Hale.     I  am  in  Valmont's  flat-Imperial 
Flats-you  know.     Yes,  where  you  went  with  me  the 
other  (lay.    Very  well,  go  to  Mr.  Summertrees,  and  say 
to  him  that  Mr.  Macpherson  wants  the  encyclopedia  for 
1893.    Do  you  get  that?    Yes,  encyclopedia.    Oh,  don't 
understand  what  it  is.     Mr.   Macpherson.     No,   don't 
mention  my  name  at  all.     Just  say   Mr.   Macpherson 
wants   the   encyclopedia    for   the   year    1893,   and   that 
you  are  to  bring  it.     Yes,  you  may  tell  him  tliat  Mr, 
Macpherson  is  at  Imperial  Flats,  but  don't  mention  my 
name  at  all.     Exactly.     As  soon  as  he  gives  you  the 
book,  get  into  a  cab,  and  come  here  as  quickly  as  possible 
with  it.    If  Summertrees  doesn't  want  to  let  the  book 
go.  then  tell  him  to  come  with  you.    If  he  won't  do  that. 
place  him  under  arrest,  and  bring  both  him  and  the  book 
here.    All  right.    Be  as  quick  as  you  can  ;  we're  waiting." 
Macpherson  made  no  protest  against  Hale's  use  of 
the  telephone;  he  merely  sat  back  in  his  chair  with  a 
resigned  expression  on  his   face  which,  if  painted  on 
canvas,  might   have  been  entitled,   "The   Falsely  Ac- 
cused."   When  Hale  rang  off,  Macpherson  said: 

"  Of  course  you  know  your  own  business  best,  but 
if  your  man  arrests  Summertrees,  he  will  make'  you 
the  laughingstock  of  London.  There  is  such  a  thing 
as  unjustifiable  arrest,  as  well  as  getting  money  under 
false  pretenses,  and  Mr.  Summertrees  is  not  the  man  to 
W  217 


5 


1 


«• 

«* 

*i 


i 


■.  Vv^*^ 


The  Triumphs  of  Eugene  Valmont 


v -' 


forgive  an  insult.  And  then,  if  you  will  allow  me  1 
say  so,  the  more  I  think  over  your  absent-minded  theor 
the  more  absolutely  grotesque  it  seems,  and  if  the  ca. 
ever  gets  into  the  newspapers.  I  am  sure,  Mr.  Hale,  you 
experience  an  uncomfortable  half  hour  with  your  chic 
at  Scotland  Yard." 

"I'll  take  the  risk  of  that,  thank  you,"  said  Ha 
stubbornly. 

"Am  I  to  consider  myself  under  arrest?"  inquire 
the  young  man. 

"  No,  sir." 

"  Then,  if  you  will  pardon  me,  I  shall  withdraw 
Mr.  Summertrees  will  show  you  everything  you  wish  t 
see  in  his  books,  and  can  explain  his  business  muc 
more  capably  than  I,  because  he  knows  more  about  it 
therefore,  gentlemen,  I  bid  you  good  night." 

"  No  you  don't.  Not  just  yet  awhile,"  exclaimei 
Hale,  rising  to  his  feet  simultaneously  with  the  younj 
man. 

"  Then  I  atn  under  arrest."  protested  Macpherson. 

"  You're  not  going  to  leave  this  room  until  Podgcr: 
brings  that  book." 

"  Oh,  very  well,"  and  he  sat  down  again. 

And  now,  as  talking  is  dry  work,  I  set  out  some 
thing  to  drink,  a  box  of  cigars,  and  a  box  of  cigarettes 
Hale  mixed  his  favorite  brew,  but  Macpherson,  shun- 
ning the  wine  of  his  country,  contented  himself  with  a 
glass  of  plain  mineral  water,  and  ht  a  cigarette.  Then 
he  awoke  my  high  regard  by  saying  pleasantly,  as  if 
nothing  had  happened: 

218 


The  Absent-minded  Coterie 


"  While  ,  e  arc  waiting,  Monsieur  \'aImont  niav  I 
remmd  you  tnat  you  owe  me  five  shillings'  " 

I  laughed,  took  the  coin  fron,  „,y  pocket,  and  paid 
lum.  whereupon  he  thanked  me.  ^ 

"Are  you  connected  with  Scotland  Yard,  Monsieur 

I  "  You  have  no  official  standing  as  a  detective   then 

Monsieur  Valmont  ? "  '  ' 

■'  ^""^  ^^''"^tever,"  I  replied  quicklv.  thus  gettintr  in 
my  oar  ahead  of  Hale.  '  S^"'"8:  »n 

rnirair^n"  '  '""  '"  '"''  ''""^'■>'"  1^"^"^^  this  ad- 
mirable young  man.  with  evident  sincerity 

a  f   l''^'f\'°  '''  ^  ''"''  "^'^^  ^  ^«-'  ^'^-'  of  so  clever 
a  fellow  .f  he  came  under  mv  tuition 

The  blunders   of  our  police."   he   went   on    "  .r. 

"mcl,  less  discomfort  to  their  victim,'" 

■■  France,"  snorted  Hale  in  derision,  "  win    ti.ev  call 
'  '"!"/""•>  "--  ™,i,  l,e-s  proven  innocent .••        ' 

in  Impl   Fh"'\^"'' *^  ^^™  -«-  'o  be  ,l,e  case 
that  Mr  t  ^^'^  '"""'  '™*  "P  J-™--  mind 

™     ~sT""  ''^  '""''■  """  -""  "'  "^  -"'en, 
)o    wniTarV:  T^rr    '  ^^"""^  '°  ""*■"  *« 


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The  Triumphs  of  Eugene  Valmont 


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•».•*■■.«».. 

>  »  .. 

**•*••-■  .'1!'" 

t::r 

•    ^■■••.^^ 

^''"'— ■-..... 
i:::^ 

C'    ■<■• 
^«*<""" 

*""""•— 


Hale  grunted  and  looked  at  his  watch.  The  minute 
passed  very  slowly  as  we  sat  there  smoking  and  at  la- 
even  I  began  to  get  uneasy.  Macphcrson.  seeing  on 
anxiety,  said  that  when  he  came  in  the  fog  was  aliinr 
as  thick  as  it  had  been  the  week  before,  antl  thai  tin  i 
might  be  some  difficulty  in  getting  a  cah.  Just  as  ho  \va 
speaking  the  door  was  unlocked  from  the  outside,  an 
Podgers  entered,  bearing  a  thick  volume  in  his  h;m 
This  he  gave  to  his  superior,  who  turned  over  its  pagi 
in  ar      ?ment,  and  then  looked  at  the  back,  crying : 

'"Encyclopedia  of  Sport.    1893'!     What  sort  of 
joke  is  this,  Mr.  Macpherson?  " 

There  was  a  pained  look  on  Mr.  Macpherson's  fat 
as  he  reached  forward  ;  1  '  took  the  book.  He  sai 
with  a  sigh : 

"  li  you  had  allowed  me  to  telephone,  Mr.  Hale. 

should  have  made  it  perfectly  plain  to  Summertrees  wli; 

was  wanted.    I  might  have  known  this  mistak'^  was  li; 

ble  to  occur.    There  is  an  increasing  demand  for  out-u 

date  books  of  sport,  and   no  doubt   Mr.   SummortrcM 

thought  this  was  what  I  meant.    There  is  nothing  for 

but  to  send  your  man  back  to  Park  Lane  and  tell  M 

Summertrees  that  what  we  want  is  the  locked  volui; 

of  accounts  for  1893,  which  we  call  the  encyclopcili 

Allow  me  to  write  an  order  that  will  bring  it.    Oli.  I 

show  you  what  I  have  written  before  your  man  take.'-  it 

he  said,  as  Hale  stood  ready  to  look  over  his  shouUkr. 

On  my  note  paper  he  dashed  ofif  a  request  such  ; 

he  had  outlined,  and  handed  it  to  Hale,  who  read  it  ar 

gave  it  to  Podgers. 

220 


,<^t<i^W^ ':^:- 


The  ^-llysent-minded  Coterie 


I 


"  Take  that  to  Summcrtrccs.  atul  jjet  back  as  quickly 
as  |)ossioIc.    Have  you  a  cab  at  tlic  door?  " 

"  Ves,  sir." 

"  Is  it  foggy  outside?' 

•'  Xot  so  much,  sir,  as  it  was  an  hour  ago.  No  diffi- 
culty about  the  traffic  now,  sir." 

"  \'cry  well,  get  back  as  soon  as  \ou  can  " 

I'odgers  saluted,  and  left  with  the  book  un.ler  his 
ann.  Again  the  door  was  locked,  and  again  we  sat 
smokuig  m  silence  until  the  stillness  was  broken  by 
the  tnikle  of  the  telephone.  Hale  put  the  receiver  to 
liis  car. 

••  Vos.  this  is  the  Imperial  Flats.  Yes.  Valmont.  Oh 
.\os;Macphersonishere.  What?  Out  of  what ^  Can't 
hear  you.  Out  of  print.  What,  the  encyclopedia's  out 
-     I)nnt?     Who   is   that   speaking?     Dr.    Willoughbv; 

thanks."  ' 

Macphenscn  rose  as  if  he  would  go  to  the  telephone. 
I'ut  instead  (and  h         ,d  .so  quietly  that  I  did  not  notice 
vvliat  he  was  doing  until  the  thing  was  done)  he  picked 
i.p  the  sheet  which  he  called  his  visiting  list,  and  walking 
'in.te  without  haste,  held  it  in  the  glowing  coals  of  the 
hreplace  until  it  disappeared  in  a  flash  of  flame  up  the 
cli.nmey.     I  sprang  to  my  feet  indignant,  but  too  late 
t'>  tiiake  even  a  motion  toward  saving  the  sheet.     Mac- 
Plierson   regarded   us   both    with   that   self-depreciatory 
Hii.Ie  which  had  several  times  lighted  up  his  face. 
"  How  dared  you  burn  that  sheet? "  I  demanded 
Because.  Monsieur  Valmont.  it  did  not  belong  to 
>ou;   because   you   do   not    belong   to    Scotland   Yard; 

221 


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The   Triumphs  of  Eugene  ralmont 


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no    havo  ,larc,l.  a.  ,„„  ,„„  ;,,  ,„  „.,,„,  „,^  ^    ^^ ' 

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>I.c  « or,l      ,„cycl„p<.,|,a.-  |,o  „,,„„:  ,,  „,„.,  b„„,  „, 
records,  an.l  1,.,  „„  |,i,  ,„,  „.,,  ,„  ,„,^,   ,'™  ' 
phono  ,„  n,o  -The  cncvclopciia  is  „„,  of  prin   ■ "  , 
upon  I  ,v„„M  b,n„  „,a,  l,c  ha,l  suca-ci.,! 

W,  K.'ntl<.,n,.n.  „p,,i  ,|,i,  ,,,„      „.,  ,  , 
mc  the  (rouble  of  forcinr  ii       p.nl, 
under  irr„.,  *"  ""■''   I""   ""'    <"""^ 

Z   h    M     V"  '■"'"  '"  "■''"""  '">  ''l'"l>-     f  an,  u 
m„  h  „b,,j.ed  ,„  .Mr.  „ale  for  ,e,epl,o„i„g.  and 

mad    „opro.e.Moso,,a„an,a,.,sUa..  .MonsiJ 
uont  ,.s  becau..e  of  ,l,e  lodged  d.Hjr.    JKnvever  ,1,  •  f 

paper  .h  IT,'  "  '"  "'''^  '  "P""  "'  '^^  ".»- 

papers  ,l,at  „o„l,l  he  q„i,e  satisfactor,  ,o  yonr  chief. 

222 


'?.V.,W 


.._^*;l_-^"^s 


■it'*^.ii.~-i.-- 


#•   . «: 


niont 


^fm  .M 


rik'lit  to  i- 
'  tliis  coiiii 
m  I  shotill 
c  sliect.  I.iir 
"'s  prcmi.M  , 
fii  he  won!.! 
I  found  \.hi 
Ills  disc'i.  ■ 

cut.    I  Ii.ivc 

been  kcj.i 
'ic  scriitin. 
.  im[)r(i|.(r 
inmcrtrct- 
'  tliis  en 
honcrl  Inn 
Jurn  tliiH 
li  or  ul.-    I 

r 

t,'  wIktc- 


vvill  >;(U' 

for'tiallv 
am  \  I  r\ 

•1     I     llMT 

ifiir  \,i! 
tlk-  faict 

tliroiii;!! 

nic,  .Mr. 
JO  diiwii 
ic  n(u>- 
hiefx    I 


I 
I 

] 

I 


« 


■'♦!!>  C:' 


'w%0v: 


■  c;:::r- 

r.pZ'---... 


irtHMtl 


se:  WL -^^ 


The  Absent-minded  Coterie 


demand  either  my  formal  arrest  or  the  unlocking  of  that 
door." 

In  silence  I  pressed  a  button,  and  my  man  threw 
open  the  door.     Macpherson  walked  to  the  threshold 
paused,  and  looked  back  at  Spenser  Hale,  who  sat  there 
silent  as  a  sphinx. 

"  Good  evening,  Mr.  Hale." 

There  being  no  reply,  he  turned  to  me  with  the  same 
ingratiating  smile  : 

^     "Good  evening,  Monsieur  Eugene  Valmont."  he  said. 
I  shall  give  myself  the  pleasure  of  calling  next  Wednes- 
day at  six  for  my  five  shillings." 


If 


323 


CHAPTER  XVIII 


THE   SAD   CASE   OF   SOPHIA   BROOKS 

lELEBRATED    critics    have    written 

scorn  of  what  uiey  call  "the  long 

of  coincidence"   in  fiction.     Coinci( 

is  supposed  to  be  the  device  of  a  no 

who  does  not  possess  ingenuity  enou 

construct  a  book  without  it.    In  France  our  incompj 

writers  pay  no  attention  to  this,  because  they  are  i 

with  a  keener  insight  into  real  life  than  is  the  case 

the  British.     The  superb  Charles  Dickens,  possil 

well  known  in  France  as  he  is  wherever  the  Enghs 

guage  is  read,  and  who  loved  French  soil  and  the  Y 

people,  probably  probed  deeper  into  the  intncac 

human  character  than  any  other   novelist  of   n 

times,  and  if  you  read  his  works,  you  will  see  tl 

continually  makes  use  of  coincidence.    The  exp< 

that  has  come  to  me  throughout  my  own  Strang 

varied  career  convinces  me  that  coincidence  hapr 

real  life  with  exceeding  frequency,  and  this  fact 

pecially  borne  in  upon  me  when  I  set  out  to  rel; 

conflict  with  the  Rantremly  ghost,  which  wrough 

tling  changes  upon  the  lives  of  two  people,  one 

iectionable.  domineering  man,  and  the  other  a 

and  crushed  woman.    Of  course,  there  was  a  thi 

224 


lP5».a?<  i-al/. -^BR^.,7,  ifii' 


The  Sad  Case  of  Sophia  Brooks 


rritten    with 
e  long  arm 
Coincidence 
){  a  novelist 
y  enough  to 
ncomparable 
;y  are  gifted 
he  case  with 
,  possibly  a> 
English  lan- 
d  the  French 
ntricacies  of 
[   of   modern 
1  see  that  he 
le  experience 

strange  and 
:e  happens  in 
lis  fact  is  es- 

to  relate  my 
wrought  star- 
e,  one  an  ob- 
her  a  humble 
.s  a  third  pc? 


son,  and  the  consequences  that  came  to  him  were  the 
most  stnkmg  of  all.  as  you  will  learn,  if  you  do  me  the 
honor  to  read  this  account  of  the  episode 

So  far  as  coincidence  is  concerned,  there  was  first 

1  e  arnval  of  the  newspaper  clipping,  then  the  coming 

of  Sophia  Brooks;  and  when  that  much-injured  woman 

left  my  flat  I  wrote  down  this  sentence  on  a  sheet  of 

Iiaper:  "' 

"Before  the  week  is  out.  I  predict  that  Lord  Ran- 
tremly  himself  will  call  to  see  me  " 

R.nZ^^'  "■■  "™"'  ''""^'"  '"  '"'  -«'  <"  Lord 
I  must  begin  with  the  visit  of  Sophia  lirooks,  for 
though  that  comes  second,  yet  I  had  paid  no  attention 
.n  pamcular  to  the  newspaper  clipping  unti!  the  lady 
told  her  story.  My  „an  brought  n,e  a  tv,«written 
sheet  of  paper  on  which  were  inscribed  the  words- 

Sopha  Brooks,  Typewriting  and  Translating  Of- 
don,  l"c.-         •  ^"''-  =''  ''"""'™'  S'™'-  Strand,  Lon- 

I  said  to  my  servant : 

•'  Tell   the   lady  as   kindly  as   possible   that    I   have 
H.  typewntmg  work  to  give  out  and  that   i„   fact   I 

premisses  •''"^"'''"  ""'   '- ^""'^'"^^  "^^^''•-  ^  the 

the  laiv';  TT"''  ^''^  "•■  """   "^"^"^^'  -d  said 
•e  lad>   wished  to  see  me.  not  about  typewriting    but 

^gardmg  a  case  in  which  she  hoped  to  interest  ';     I 

^^as  still  m  some  hesitation  about  admitting  her    for  mv 

itransactions  had  now  risen  to  a  "  ' 


f 

I 
I 


225 


?her  plane  than  when 


The  Triumphs  of  Eugene  Valmont 


r  "•- — ... 

r  ■•••■,. 
Vfc.„ 


■"«»».,...  f  I 

%l  Bis  ">  -    '  -i«  , 

c^-^ ■ 

%>  l^e^  MtMMMM^  Ml 


I  was  new  to  London.     My  expenses  were  nat, 
very  heavy,  and  it  was  not  possible  fr-  me,  in  j, 
to  myself,  to  waste  time  in  commissions  from  the 
which  even   if  they  resulted   successfully  meant 
money  added  to  my  banking  account,  and  often  noi 
at  all,  because  the  client  was  unable  to  pay     As 
marked  befo. .,  I  possess  a  heart  the  most  tender 
therefore  must,  greatly  to  my  grief,  steel  myself  ag 
the  enhstmg  of  my  sympathy,   which,   alas!  has 
quently  led  to  my  financial  loss.    Still,  sometimes  the 
parently  poor  are  involved  in  matters  of  extreme 
portance.  and  England  is  so  eccentric  a  country 
one  rnay  find  himself  at  fault  if  he  closes  his  door 
harshly.     Ind,.d.  ever  since  my  servant,  in  the  utr 
good  faith,  tlirew  downstairs  the  persistent  and  tatt< 
beg:garman.  who  he  learned  later  to  his  sorrow  was 
tually  his  grace  the  Duke  of  Ventnor,  I  have  alw 
cautioned  my  subordinates  not  to  judge  too  hastily  fi 
appearances.  ^ 

"Show  the  lady  in,"  I  said,  and  there  came  to  i 
hesitating,  backward,  abashed,  a  middle-aged  worn 
dressed  with  distressing  plainness,  when  one  thinks 
the  charming  costumes  to  be  seen  on  a  Parisian  bo. 

and  placed  a  chair  at  her  disposal,  with  the  air  I  shoi 
have  used  if  my  caller  had  been  a  royal  princess, 
claim  no  credit  for  this;  it  is  of  my  nature.     There  y, 
beh^d  Eugene  Valmont.     My  visitor  was  a  wom'a 


226 


mont 

re  naturally 
e,  in  justice 
m  the  poor, 
meant   little 
ten  nothing 
.    As  I  rc- 
tender,  and 
self  against 
'!  has   fre- 
nes  the  ap- 
Ktreme  im- 
•untry  that 
s  door  too 
the  utmost 
id  tattered 
w  was  ac- 
ve  always 
istily  from 


The  Sad  Case  of  Sophia  Brooks 


li 


me  to  me, 

J  woman, 

thinks  of 

ian  boule- 

to  whom 

ofoundly, 

'  I  should 

ncess.     I 

'here  you 

woman. 


"  ^^ada"i,"  I  said  politely,  "  in  what  may  I  have  the 
pleasure  of  serving  you  ? " 

The  poor  woman  seemed  for  the  moment  confused 
and  was  I  feared,  on  the  verge  of  tears,  but  atTst  she' 
spoke,  and  said :  .  "ui  «  last  sue 

"  l"^V^  yo"  have  read  in  the  newspapers  of  the 
tragedy  at  Rantremly  Castle?  " 

"  The  name,  madam,  remains  in  mv  memorv   „ 
ciated  elusively  with  some  hint  „(        ■         "^'^°'y'  ^so- 
„„,.)  "'  °'  seriousness.    Will  vou 

pardon  me  a  moment?  "  and  a  vague  thought  that     had 
ecn  the  castle  mentioned  either  in  a  newspape     or  a 
d   Pmg  from  one  caused  me  to  pick  up  the  tet  bunch 

Tan  y      allTil  7  ""  "*"'•    '  '"  '""'-<'  -*  "» 

F^r-fortt  '"    T'--^-^^^^ 
rrance,  for  it  is  my  determination  yet  to  write  a  hZl 

on  the  comparative  characteristics  of  ,h,T         ^ 
I  hold  a  theory  that  th.  t     ,    '      °'  *"  '"o  People. 

comprehenX.        e  resf  ^h  '"'''  "'  """'^  '"" 
^eM.se.ou.i„m:foSol';":^rr"'*"'-"' 

4af.e;t^s:r-::;-:--;ome 

227 


« 


i.r:"WT-  i»;-^wr 


•vHt;----"""  1  . 

"*>"*■*-.     '■'■: 
*,«»*r  ■■"'■''' 


I  ■   >!• 
I.   I. I 


The  Triumphs  of  Eugene  Valmont 

the  castle  had  been  battered  down  by  Cromwell,  and  1 
it  again  proved  the  refuge  of  a  Stuart  when  the 
tender  made  it  a  temporary  place  of  concealment, 
new   Lord    Rantremly,   it   seemed,   had   determinec 
demolish  this  ancient  stronghold,  so  interesting  ai 
tecturally  and  historically,  and  to  build  with  its  st( 
a  modern  residence.    Against  this  act  of  vandalism 
writer  strongly  protested,  and  suggested  that  Engl 
should  acquire  the  power  which  France  constantly 
erts,  in  making  an  historical  monument  of  an  edific( 
interwoven  with  the  fortunes  of  the  country. 

"  Well,  madam,"  I  said,  "  all  this  extract  allude: 
is  the  coming  demolition  of  Rantremly  Castle.  Is  i 
the  tragedy  of  which  you  speak?" 

"Oh,  no,"  she  exclaimed;  "I  mean  the  death 

the  eleventh  Lord  Rantremly  about  six  weeks  ago.    ; 

ten  years  Lord  Rantremly  lived  practically  alone  in 

castle.     Servants  would  not  remain  there  because 

place  was  haunted,  and  well  it  may  be,  for  a  terri 

family  the  Rantremlys  have  been,  and  a  cruel,  as  I  si 

be  able  to  tell  you.    Up  to  a  month  and  a  half  ago  L( 

Rantremly  was  waited  on  by  a  butler  older  than  hims^ 

and,  if  possible,  more  wicked.     One  morning  this  i 

butler  came  up  the  stairs  from  the  kitchen  with  Lc 

Rantremly's  breakfast  on  a  silver  tray,  as  was  his  ci 

torn.     His  lordship  always  partook  of  breakfast  in  i 

own  room.    It  is  not  known  how  the  accident  happen( 

as  the  old  servant  was  going  up  the  stairs  instead 

coming  down,  but  the  steps  are  very  smooth  and  slippci 

and  without  a  carpet;  at  any  rate,  he  seems  to  ha 

228 


ff-it-- 


The  Sad  Case  of  Sophia  Drooki 


II,  and  later 
n  the  Pre- 
sent. Tlie 
irmined  to 
ting  archi- 
its  stones 
idalism  the 
it  England 
stantly  ex- 
I  edifice  so 

alludes  to 
i.     Is  that 

death  of 
ago.  For 
one  in  the 
Jcaiise  the 
a  terrible 
as  I  shall 
ago  Lord 
n  himself, 
I  this  old 
vith  Lord 
5  his  cus- 
1st  in  his 
happened, 
nstead  of 
[  slippery, 

to  have 


fallen  from  the  top  to  the  bottom,  and  lay  there  with  a 
broken  neck.     Lord   Rantremly,   who   was   very   deaf, 
seemingly  did  not  hear  the  crash,  and  it  is  supposed  that 
after  ringing  and  ringing  in  vain,  and  doubtless  work- 
ing himself  into  a  violent  fit  of  temper— alas!  too  fre- 
quent an  occurrence— the  old  nobleman  got  out  of  bed, 
and  walked  barefooted  down  the  stair,  upon  the  body 
of  his  ancient  servant  and  confederate.    There  the  man 
who  comes  in  every  morning  to  light  the  fires  found 
them,  the  servant  dead,  and  Lord  Rantremly  helpless 
from  an  attack  of  paralysis.     The  physicians  say  that 
only  his  eyes  seemed  alive,  and  they  were  filled  with  a 
great  fear,  and,  indeed,  that  is  not  to  be  wondered  at, 
after  his  wicked,  wicked  life.     His  right  hand  was  but 
partially  disabled,  and   with  that  he  tried  to  scribble 
something   which   proved   indecipherable.     And   so   he 
(lied,   and    those    who   attended    him    at    his    last   mo- 
ments say  that  if  ever  a  soul  had  a  taste  of  future 
punishment  before  it   left  this   earth,  it   was   the  soul 
of  Lord  Rantremly  as   it  shone  through  those  terror- 
stricken  eyes." 

Here  the  woman  stopped,  with  a  catch  in  her  breath 
as  If  the  fear  of  that  grim  deathbed  had  communicated 
Itself  to  her.  I  interjected  calmness  into  an  emotional 
situation  by  remarking  in  a  commonplace  tone  : 

"And  it  is  the  present  Lord  Rantremly  who  pro- 
poses to  destroy  the  castle,  I  suppose?  " 

'•  Yes." 

"  Is  he  the  son  of  the  late  lord  ?  " 
"No;  he  is  a  distant  relative.  The  branch  of  the 

229 


^"r-- I 


^"••-i.^     'liiii 


•—..../' 


^'"■'^.. 


The  Triumphs  of  Eugene  Valmont 

family  to  which  he  belongs  has  been  engaged  in  co 
merce,  and,  I  believe,  its  members  are  very  wealthy." 
"  Well,  madam,  no  doubt  this  is  all  extremely  i 
terestmg  and  rather  grewsome.     In  what  way  are  y 
concerned  in  these  occurrences  ?  " 

"  Ten  years  ago  I  replied  to  an  advertisement,  the 
bemg  required  one  who  knew  shorthand,  who  possess, 
a  typewntmg  machine  and  a  Knowledge  of  French 
act  as  secretary  to  a  nobleman.     I  was  at  that  tin 
twenty-three  years  old,  and  for  two  years  had  been  tryin 
to  earn  my  hving  in  London  through  the  typing  of  mam 
script.     But  I  was  making  a  hard  struggle  of  it    so 
applied  for  this  position  and  got  it.     There  are  in  tli 
hbrary  of  Rantremly  Castle  many  documents  relatin, 
to  the  Stuart  exile  in  France.    His  lordship  wished  thes 
documents  assorted  and  catalogued,  as  well  as  copie 
taken  of  each.    Many  of  the  letters  were  in  the  FrencI 
anguage,  and  these   I   was   required   to  translate  anc 
type.    It  was  a  somber  place  of  residence,  but  the  salar> 
was  good,  and  I  saw  before  me  work  enough  to  keep  m'e 
busy  for  years.     Besides  this,  the  task  was  extremelv 
congenial,  and  I  became  absorbed  in  it,  being  young  and 
romantically  inclined.    Here  I  seemed  to  live  in  the  midst 
of  these  wonderful  intrigues  of  long  ago.     Documents 
passed  through  my  hands  whose  very  possession  at  one 
period  meant  capital   danger,   bringing  up   even  now 
visions  of  block,  ax,  and  masked  headsman.     It  seemed 
strange  to  me  that  so  sinister  a  man  as  Lord  Rantremly. 
who,  I  had  heard,  cared  for  nothing  but  drink  and  gam- 
bhng,  should  have  desired  to  promote  this  historical  re- 

230 


TheSad  Cast  of  Sophia  Brooks 


^   sea  ch,  a,^,  ,„deed,  I  soon  found  he  felt  nothing  but 
.  comemp,   or  „.    However,  he  had  undertaken  it  f,  Z 
mstance  of  h,s  only  son,  then  a  young  man  of  my  oln 
age.  at  Oxford  University.  ^ 

"Lord  Rantremly  at  that  time  was  sixty-five  year, 

oUl     I„s  countenance  was  dark,  harsh,  and  imperiou, 

and  h,s  anguage  brutal.    He  indulged  in  frightful  out-' 

.    bursts  of  temper,  but  he  paid  so  well  for  sLce  to 

I  .here  was  no  lack  of  it,  as  there  has  been  since  the  gho« 

I    appeared  some  years  ago.    He  was  very  tall  and  of  com 

mandmg  appearance,  but  had  a  deformitv  in  the  shaw 

I   Z  r      ;,     .     '  """'  "  """  •'"'^  ^"vants  in  plenty 
at  the  cas  le,  for  although  a  tradition  existed  that  The 

,.  11..S  ghost,  ,t  was  said,  never  demonstrated  its  presenc,^ 
h  when  the  living  representative  of  the  family  wafa  man 
i    >v,.h  a  clubfoot.    Tradition  further  amrmedMa   if  Z 

u^^:htr'-^"°"r"^''^'""«'°-^-^ 

the  1  ™^'"^  '""  '^'''''"'  '  »""""  deform. 

^; tes  to  a'lr  °"  '''^"'■=''°-''  'he  I«--"g  of  title  ard 
t^ tates  to  a  stranger.    The  ghost  haunted  the  castle  onlv 

:^:z  ir'  '\'  "--'■-  who^::  t 

,v,I  ,    ,  Tr  ™'  *"  *^  fo'>"<ler  of  the  house 

at  other  times  b^th  fat'e  T^d       Tf "'"  '"°'  "'''" 

.he  case  with  the  la7e  V^,.  1'°"  "'?  '^''""^«'  »=  -^a' 

fl  man  at  Oxford     r  Rantremly  and  the  young 

1  of  cou  se  I„.  „/    ZT  '  '''•''"  "  *^  supernatural 
i  ,  but,  nevertheless,  it  is  strange  that  within  the 

■  231 


I 


The  Triumphs  of  Eugene  Valmont 


"1 


'Um 


*«•»«•, 


^J^ 


past  few  years  everyone  residing  in  tlie  castle  has 
the  clubfooted  ghost,  and  now  title  and  estates  de 
to   a    family    that    were    utter    strangers    to   the 
tremlys." 

"  Well,  madam,  this  also  sounds  most  alluring 
were  my  time  not  taken  up  with  affairs  more  ma 
than  those  to  which  you  allude,  I  should  be  contc 
listen  all  day,  but  as  it  is—"  I  spread  my  hand; 
shrugged  my  shoulders. 

The  woman  with  a  deep  sigh  said : 

"  I  am  sorry  to  have  taken  so  long,  but  I  w 
you  to  understand  the  situation,  and  now  I  will 
direct  to  the  heart  of  the  case.  I  worked  alone  ii 
library,  as  I  told  you,  much  interested  in  what  I 
doing.  The  chaplain,  a  great  friend  of  Lord  Rantre 
son,  and,  indeed,  a  former  tutor  of  his,  assisted  me 
the  documents  that  were  in  Latin,  and  a  frien( 
sprang  up  between  us.  He  was  an  elderly  man,  anc 
tremely  unworldly.  Lord  Rantremly  never  conceale 
scorn  of  this  clergyman,  but  did  not  interfere  with 
because  of  the  son. 

"  My  work  went  on  very  pleasantly  up  to  the 
that  Reginald,  the  heir  of  his  lordship,  came  down 
Oxford.     Then  began  the  happiest  days  of  a  life 
has  been  otherwise  full  of  hardships  and  distress.    ] 
inald  was  as  different  as  possible  from  his  father. 
one  respect  only  dir'  he  bear  any  resemblance  to 
terrible  old  man,  and  mis  resemblance  was  the  defori 
of  a  clubfoot,  a  blemish  which  one  soon  forgot  v 
one  came  to  know  the  gentle  and  high-minded  natur 

232 


tlie  young  man.    As  I  have  sairl   :»  i 

that  Lord  Rantremlv  h.^i  ^^'  ^^  '^'^  '"«^"«^e 

those  historical  pT^'.^VeT^nr'^  *°  ^^^  '"  -^- 
at  the  progress  I  ^d  mad^a;:'  hu^^  ^"'"'^^^'^ 
man.  the  chaplain   and  Z    n  ''  ^"""^^  "«^''^- 

^'■'>-.  p'^'.a  s,'3  m:Ln:z'r^'  ""i- ' '°°' 

naW  knew  ,ha,  his  father  ;oL,ldL'     ""'"'•    '''S'" 
hnlisled  the  sympathy  I    T     .    !"  ""'""'•  """  >^' 

[chapel  of  the  castle  ^         ^  consecrated 

h^^^'^L^^^'r:Zz,T.,'^r " "»' «™  - 

N.  .he  b«>er,  Cm^i Lfd"!:""™'  "l'"^  '"-' 
Pantremly  himself  imt  .,      '™,.«'™  "«>«  than  Lord 

orward.     BuTt  .h«  a", "       "^  °'  """  ""'  S™"? 
f-tered  the  chape,  iuttlh     """'■  *"  ''"'  "-'^  '-^Wp 

h  -ccr.,  ch''a:;:tatr"4x:  a"d^  'rf  "--^ 

fttempted  to  interfere   th.        , ,  "'""  R''S'nald 

h  son  ,u„  i„  te  , Tee  with"!,     T'  "°'"=™"  ='™^'' 

«ba„d  lay  as  one  din        .        "'"''"■^  «='■  '"d  n,y 

"*ly  torn  the  vestments  from  tH  a'ed  tu'- '""  '^"' 
"gymn.  and  with  these  .i.H  J      P  '  '"''^-'"wnsible 

'■-  '-k  place  in  a  veXv  1       ,      '  '"'  '~'-    A" 
very  few  moments,  and  I  stood  there 


The  Triumphs  rf  Eugene  Valmout 


c 


...s 


■•<i 

•«=:-::' 

'ii 

C"*-*- 

''«! 

as  one  paralyzed,  unable  t.tlu  to  speak  or  scream,  r 
that  screaming  would  have  Xnit  me  any  good  in  th 
horrible  place  of  tliick  v  i.'n  The  butler  produced 
key,  and  unlocked  a  "■  :li.  pn 'ate  door  at  the  si 
of  the  chapel  which  led  ^:>im  rl  <  apartments  of  his  lor 
ship  to  the  family  pew.  Thor  iking  ny  husband 
feet  and  shoulders,  Lord  /.antrtM.ly  an  t  the  butler  cs 
ried  him  out,  locking  the  .'r.>r,  mv\  K.m  ^  ^  the  clerg 
man  and  me  prisoners  i  !  c  cha,.;.!.  ie  reverend  c 
gentleman  took  no  notice  ot  m**.  i  K  ">  -v  d  to  be  daze 
and  when  at  last  I  found  my  v^  :cc  ani  addressed  hii 
he  merely  murmured  over  and  over  texts  of  Scriptu 
pertaining  to  the  marriape  service. 

"  In  a  short  time  I  heard  the  key  turn  again  in  t! 
lock  i)f  tlv.  private  door,  and  the  butler  entered  alor 
He  ur:  osened  the  bands  around  the  clergyman's  knet 
escorted  him  out,  and  once  more  locked  the  door  behii 
him.  A  third  time  that  terrible  servant  can-~  bac 
grasped  me  roughly  by  the  wrist,  and  without  a  woi 
dragged  me  with  him  along  a  narrow  passage,  up 
stair,  and  finally  to  the  main  hall,  and  so  to  my  lord 
private  study,  which  adjoined  his  bedroom,  and  the 
on  a  table  I  found  my  typewriting  machine  brought  t 
from  the  library. 

"  I  have  but  the  most  confused  recollection  of  wh; 
took  place.  I  am  not  a  courageous  woman,  and  wj 
in  mortal  terror  both  of  Lord  Rantremly  and  his  a 
tendant.  His  lordship  was  pacing  up  and  down  i\ 
room,  and,  when  I  came  in,  used  the  most  unsecnil 
language  to  me;  then  ordered  me  to  write  at  his  di( 

234 


The  S„d  Case  of  Sop/,i„  Brook, 


m.  he  would  fi„„h  hi.  son,  as  he  p„.  i,.  'r  sat  do„„ 

:     at  th*  machme,  and  he  dictatcl  a  letter  to  himself  T 

r„,ndn,g  two  thousand  pounds  paid  to  .e.  otherwise  I 

marred.    Th,s,  plaemg  pen  and  ink  Ufore  me  he  eom 
j-lled  me  to  sign,  and  when  I  had  done  so  p,^ IgTo 
^  allowed  to  see  my  husban.l.  .f  onK   f„   \  mZn, 
I  thought  he  was  going  to  strike  me.  for  he  sho^rhi,' 

.-■.m.husC,r:t::a:.T;:i'-:r- 

was  at  onee  sent  off  to  Lo„d„„  wi,„  ,„,  ^^^'.      ' 
Ihe    butler    himself    buving    mv    ticket    ',„,!    « 

ahandfu,   of   sovereigns  Into- nnpr,,e '"S 
moved  out.  '  ^'" 

hnn?""'  f  u  ''°"'^"  ''°PP"'^'  ^""'^^^  her  face  in  her 
hands,  and  began  to  weep. 

years?'"'  '°"  '°"'  "°'^'"^  ^^°"^  ^^is  for  the  past  ten 
She  shook  her  head. 
"What  could  I  do.v'  she  gasped.     "I  had  littl. 

Be^::;  :h-  "l  'Tf  • ''''  ^^°"''  ^^"-  " 

le  t  r   si  "f'^  ^'T'^'y  '•stained  possession  of  a 

''You  have  no  marriage  certificate,  of  course?" 

"  What  has  become  of  the  clerg>'man  ?  " 

235 


•.fa,. 


r 


c 


•■c: 


M:., 


The  Triumphs  of  Eugene  Valmont 

"  I  do  not  know," 

"  And  what  of  Lord  Rantremly's  son?  " 
"  It  was  announced  that  he  had  gone  on  a  voyage 
Australia  for  his  health  in  a  sailing  ship,  whiih  \ 
wrecked  on  the  African  coast,  and  everyone  on  bo; 
lost." 

"  What  is  your  own  theory  ?  " 

"  Oh,  my  husband  was  killed  by  the  blow  given  h 
in  the  chapel." 

"  Madam,  that  does  not  seem  credible.  A  blow  fn 
the  fist  seldom  kills." 

"But  he  fell  backward,  and  his  head  struck  t 
sharp  stone  steps  at  the  foot  of  the  altar.  I  know  r 
husband  was  dead  when  the  butler  and  his  father  c« 
ried  him  out." 

"  You  think  the  clergyman  also  was  murdered?" 
"  I  am  sure  of  it.     Both  master  and  servant  we 

capable  of  any  crime  or  cruelty." 

"  You  received  no  letters  from  the  young  man?  " 
"  No.    You  see,  during  our  short  friendship  we  we 

constantly  together,  and  there  was  no  need  of  corr 

spondence." 

"  Well,  madam,  what  do  you  expect  of  me?  " 

"I  hoped  you  would  investigate,  and  find  perhaj 

where  Reginald  and  the  clergyman  are  buried.    I  reali; 

that  I  have  no  proof,  but  in  that  w::y  my  strange  stor 

will  be  corroborated." 

I  leaned  back  in  my  chair  and  looked  at  her.    Trut 

to  tell,  I  only  partially  credited  her  story  myself,  aiv 

yet  I  was  positive  she  believed  every  word  of  it.    Tei 

236 


ont 


voyage  to 

/hich  was 

on  board 


jiven  him 
(low  from 

truck   the 
know  my 
ither  car- 
red?" 
ant  were 

in?" 
we  were 
jf  corre- 


perhaps 

I  realize 

ige  story 

.    Truth  j 
self,  and 
it.    Ten 


5: 


c: 


*,  'it. 


The  Sad  Case  of  Sophia  Brooks 


years  brooding  on  a  fancied  injustice  by  a  woman  livin,. 
alone,  and  doubUess  often  in  dire  povertv    hT         ! 
.ogether  the  ac.ua,  and  .be  imaginaTun^  ^wTbl 
had  poss,bly  been  an  aimless  flirtation  on  the  parTo 
U'e  young  man,  unexpectedly  discovered  by  the  father 
had  formed  ,.se,f  into  a,e  tragedy  which  she  had  to,d 

"  ^^""M  "  not  be  well,"  I  sueeesterl   "  m  i,    .■. 
fees  before  the  present  Wd  Ran."'-    "  '^^  *' 
I  have  done  so,"  she  answered  simply. 
With  what  result?" 
"  His  lordship  said  my  story  was  preposterous     Tn 
examining  the  late  lord's  private  paoers    ZT  . 

the  letter  which  I  typed  and  si' ned     H.  ""'^ 

that  the  fact  T  hS      ."'^,"^"^^-    "«  said  very  coldlv 

incredible  "        ^  '  '  "^"^^  P"""'  »  ^t^'^'^nt  so 

right'^'"'  '^  '"°"'  ™''™'  I  *'*  h-  lordship  is 
refle"  ••°""'''  "'  ""  '""""^  "'  «">'  I-""*,  which  I 

vou"t!ke'mv  T/""'  """''"•  '  """''  >°"  "=  "-"g.    I, 
The  woman  rose  slowly  to  her  feet 

tha,  name  acknowledged.     My  charac.er  has  £„ 

237 


I 


S" 


C^**. 


■•■'I 


:ih 


*..*. 


■—•  "liH 


The  Triumphs  of  Eugene  Valmont 

under  an  impalpable  shadow  for  ten  years.  On  sever 
occasions  mysterious  hints  have  reached  me  that  iii  son 
manner  I  left  the  castle  under  a  cloud.  If  Lord  Rai 
tremly  will  destroy  the  letter  which  I  was  compelled 
write  under  duress,  and  if  he  will  give  me  a  writt( 
acknowledgment  that  there  was  nothing  to  be  alleg< 
against  me  during  my  stay  in  the  castle,  he  xrn 
enjoy  his  money  in  peace  for  all  of  me.  I  want  noi 
of  it." 

"  Have  you  asked  him  to  do  this  ?  " 

"  Yes.  He  refuses  to  give  up  or  destroy  the  lette 
although  I  told  him  in  what  circumstances  it  had  be( 
written.  But,  desiring  to  be  fair,  he  said  he  would  alio 
me  a  pound  a  week  for  life,  entirely  through  his  ow 
generosity." 

"And  this  you  refused?" 

"  Yes,  I  refused." 

"  Madam,  I  regret  to  say  that  I  cannot  see  my  wa 
to  do  anything  with  regard  to  what  I  admit  is  vet 
unjust  usage.  We  have  absolutely  nothing  to  go  upo 
except  your  unsupported  word.  Lord  Rantremly  w£ 
perfectly  right  when  he  said  no  one  would  credit  yot 
story.  I  could  not  go  down  to  Rantremly  Castle  an 
make  investigations  there.  I  should  have  no  right  upo 
the  premises  at  all,  and  would  get  into  instant  trouble  s 
an  interfering  trespasser.  I  beg  you  to  heed  my  advic( 
and  accept  his  annuity." 

Sophia  Brooks,  with  that  mild  obstinacy  of  whic 
I  had  perceived  indications  during  her  recital,  slow! 
shook  her  head. 

238 


le  letter, 
lad  been 
lid  allow 
his  own 


The  Sad  Case  of  Sophia  Brooks 


"  You  have  been  very  kind  to  listen  for  so  long,"  she 
said,  and  then,  with  a  curt  "  Good  day !  "  turned  and  left 
the  room.  On  the  sheet  of  paper  underneath  her  address 
I  wrote  this  prophecy :  "  Before  the  week  is  out,  I  pre- 
dict that  Lord  Rantremly  himself  will  call  to  see  me." 


239 


CHAPTER  XIX 


A  COMMISSION    FROM    LORD   RANTREMLY 


"9 

r 

-^ — ...-i 


•i**. 


:.UM 


!« 


•><>•, 


'ill-mannered, 


|EXT  morning,  at  almost  the  same  hour  tha 
Miss  Brooks  had  arrived  the  day  before 
the  Earl  of  Rantremly's  card  was  brough 
in  to  me. 

His  lordship  proved  to  be  an  abrupt 
dapper  business  man ;  purse-proud, 
should  call  him,  as  there  was  every  reason  he  should  be 
for  he  had  earned  his  own  fortune.  He  was  doubtles:: 
equally  proud  of  his  new  title,  which  he  was  trying  tc 
live  up  to,  assuming  now  and  then  a  haughty,  donu 
neering  attitude,  and  again  relapsing  into  the  keen,  in 
cisive  manner  of  the  man  of  affairs;  shrewd  financia 
sense  waging  a  constant  struggle  with  the  glamour  o1 
an  ancient  name.  I  am  sure  he  would  have  shone  tc 
better  advantage  either  as  a  financier  or  as  a  nobleman 
but  the  combination  was  too  much  for  him.  I  formed 
an  instinctive  dislike  to  the  man,  which  j.-robably  would 
not  have  happened  had  he  been  wearing  the  title  for 
twenty  years,  or  had  I  met  him  as  a  business  man,  with 
no  thought  of  the  aristocratic  honor  awaiting  him. 
There  seemed  nothing  in  common  between  him  and  the 
former  holder  of  the  title.  He  had  keen,  ferrety  eves, 
a  sharp  financial  nose,  a  thin-lipped  line  of  mouth,  wliicli 
indicated  little  of  human  kindness.     He  was  short  of 

240 


A  Commission  from  Lord  Rantremly 


stature,  but  he  did  not  possess  the  clubfoot,  which  was 
one  advantage.  He  seated  himself  before  I  had  time  to 
offer  him  a  chair,  and  kept  on  his  hat  in  my  presence, 
which  he  would  not  have  done  if  he  had  either  been  a 
genuine  nobleman  or  a  courteous  business  man. 

"  I  am  Lord  Rantremly,"  he  announced  pompously, 
which  announcement  was  quite  unnecessary,  because  I 
held  his  card  in  my  hand. 

"  Quite  so,  my  lord.  And  you  have  come  to  learn 
whether  or  no  I  can  lay  the  ghost  in  that  old  castle  to 
the  north  which  bears  year  name  ? " 

"Well,  I'm  blessed!"  cried  his  lordship,  agape. 
"  How  could  you  guess  that  ?  " 

"  Oh,  it  is  not  a  guess,  but  rather  a  choice  of  two 
objects,  either  of  which  might  bring  you  to  my  rooms. 
I  chose  the  first  motive  because  I  thought  you  might 
prefer  to  arrange  the  second  problem  with  your  solicitor, 
and  he  doubtless  told  you  that  Miss  Sophia  Brooks's 
claim  was  absurd ;  that  you  were  quite  right  in  refusing 
to  give  up  or  destroy  the  typewritten  letter  she  had 
signed  ten  years  ago,  and  that  it  was  weakness  on  your 
part,  without  consulting  him,  to  offer  her  an  annuity  of 
fifty-two  pounds  a  year." 

Long  before  this  harangue  was  finished,  which  I 
uttered  in  an  easy  and  nonchalant  tone  of  voice,  as  if  re- 
citing something  that  everybody  knew,  his  lordship  stood 
on  his  feet  again,  staring  at  me  like  a  man  thunderstruck. 
This  gave  me  the  opportunity  of  exercising  that  polite- 
ness which  his  abrupt  entrance  and  demeanor  had  fore- 
stalled.   I  rose  and,  bowing,  said : 

241 


c 


Aim 


The  Triumphs  of  Eugene  Valmont 

"  I  pray  you  to  be  seated,  my  lord." 

He  dropped  into  the  chair,  rather  than  sat  dowi 
in  it. 

"  And  now,"  I  continued,  with  the  utmost  suavity 
stretching  forth  my  hand,  "  may  I  place  your  hat  oi 
this  shelf  out  of  the  way,  where  it  will  not  incommod* 
you  during  our  discourse  ?  " 

Like  a  man  in  a  dream,  he  took  his  hat  from  hi: 
head,  and  passively  handed  it  to  me,  and  after  placing 
it  in  safety  I  resumed  my  chair  with  the  comfortabh 
feeling  that  his  lordship  and  I  were  much  nearer  j 
plane  of  equality  than  when  he  entered  the  room. 

"  How  about  the  ghost  with  a  clubfoot,  my  lord  ? ' 
said  I  genially.  "  May  I  take  it  that  in  the  City,  that  sen 
sible,  commercial  portion  of  London,  no  spirits  are  be 
lieved  in  except  those  sold  over  the  bars  ?  " 

"If  you  mean,"  began  his  lordship,  struggling  tc 
reach  his  dignity  once  more,  "  if  you  mean  to  ask  il 
there  is  any  man  fool  enough  to  place  credit  in  the 
story  of  a  ghost,  I  answer  no.  I  am  a  practical  man, 
sir.  I  now  possess  in  the  north  property  represent- 
ing, in  farming  lands,  in  shooting  rights,  and  what  not, 
a  locked-up  capital  of  many  thousand  pounds.  As 
you  seem  to  know  everything,  sir,  perhaps  you  are 
aware  that  I  propose  to  build  a  modern  mansion  on 
the  estate." 

"  Yes ;  I  saw  the  letter  in  the  Times." 

"Very  well,  sir.  It  has  come  to  a  fine  pass  if,  in 
this  country  of  law  and  the  rights  of  property,  a  man 
may  not  do  what  he  pleases  with  his  own." 

242 


A  Commission  from  Lord  Rantremly 


"  I  think,  my  lord,  cases  may  be  cited  where  the 
decisions  of  your  courts  have  shown  a  man  may  not  do 
what  he  likes  with  his  own.  Nevertheless,  I  am  quite 
certain  that  if  you  level  Rantremly  Castle  with  the 
ground,  and  build  a  modern  mansion  in  its  place,  the 
law  will  not  hinder  you." 

"I  should  hope  not,  sir,  I  should  hope  not,"  said 
his  lordship  gruffly.  "  Nevertheless,  I  am  not  one  who 
wishes  to  ride  roughshod  over  public  opinion. 

"  I  am  chairman  of  several  companies  which  depend 
more  or  less  on  popular  favor  for  success.  I  deplore 
unnecessary  antagonism.  Technically,  I  might  assert  my 
right  to  destroy  this  ancient  stronghold  to-morrow  if  I 
wished  to  do  so,  and  if  that  right  were  seriously  dis- 
puted, I  should,  of  course,  stand  firm.  But  it  is  not 
seriously  disputed.  The  British  nation,  sir,  is  too  sen- 
sible a  people  to  object  to  the  removal  of  an  antiquated 
structure  that  has  long  outlived  its  usefulness,  and  the 
erection  of  a  mansion  replete  with  all  modern  improve- 
ments would  be  a  distinct  addition  to  the  country,  sir. 
A  few  impertinent  busybodies  protef.t  against  the  demo- 
lition of  Rantremly  Castle,  but  that  is  ail." 

"  Ah,  then,  you  do  intend  to  destroy  it?  "  I  rejoined, 
and  it  is  [  sible  that  a  touch  of  regret  was  manifest  in 
my  tones. 

"  Not  just  at  present ;  not  until  this  vulgar  clamor  has 
had  time  to  subside.  Nevertheless,  as  a  business  man, 
I  am  forced  to  recognize  that  a  large  amount  of  unpro- 
ductive capital  is  locked  up  in  that  property." 

"  And  why  is  It  locked  up  ?  " 

243 


r 


"I 


r-^- ' '% 


The  Triumphs  of  Eugene  Valmont 

"  Because  of  an  absurd  belief  that  the  place 
haunted.  I  could  let  it  to-morrow  at  a  good  figure, 
it  were  not  for  that  rumor." 

"  But  surely  sensible  men  do  not  pay  any  attentic 
to  such  a  rumor  ?  " 

"  Sensible  men  may  not,  but  sensible  men  are  oftc 
married  to  silly  women,  and  the  women  object.  It 
only  the  other  day  that  I  was  in  negotiation  with  Bate 
of  Bates,  Sturgeon  &  Bates,  a  very  wealthy  man,  quii 
able  and  willing  to  pay  the  price  I  demanded.  I  le  care 
nothing  about  the  alleged  ghost,  but  his  family  absolute! 
refused  to  have  anything  to  do  with  the  place,  and  « 
the  arrangement  fell  through." 

"  What  is  your  theory  regarding  this  ghost,  m 
lord?" 

He  answered  me  with  some  impatience. 

"  How  can  a  sane  man  hold  a  theory  about  a  ghost 
I  can,  however,  advance  a  theory  regarding  the  noise 
heard  in  the  castle.  For  years  that  place  has  been  tli 
resort  of  questionable  characters." 

"  I  understand  the  Rantremly  family  is  a  very  ol 
one,"  I  commented  innocently,  but  his  lordship  did  nc 
notice  the  innuendo. 

"  Yes,  we  are  an  old  family,"  he  went  on  with  grca 
complacency.  "  The  castle,  as  perhaps  you  are  awan 
is  a  huge,  ramshackle  place,  honeycombed  underneat 
with  cellars.  T  dare  say  in  the  old  days  some  of  thcs 
cellars  and  caves  were  the  resort  of  smugglers,  and  th 
receptacle  of  their  contraband  wares,  doubtless  with  th 
full  knowledge  of  my  ancestors,  who,  I  regret  to  admit 

244 


A  Commission  from  Lord  Rantremly 


place    is     | 
igure,  if     ! 


as  a  business  man,  were  not  too  particular  in  their  respect 
for  law.  I  make  no  doubt  that  the  castle  is  now  the 
refuge  of  a  number  of  dangerous  characters,  who,  know- 
ing the  legends  of  the  place,  frighten  away  tools  by  im- 
personating ghosts." 

"  You  wish  me  to  uncover  their  retreat,  then  ? " 

"  Precisely." 

"  Could  I  get  accommodation  in  the  castle  itself?  " 

"  Lord  bless  you,  no !  Nor  within  two  miles  of  it. 
You  might  secure  bed  and  board  at  the  porter's  lodge, 
perhaps,  or  in  the  village,  which  is  three  miles  distant." 

"  I  should  prefer  to  live  in  the  castle  night  and  day, 
until  the  mystery  is  solved." 

"  Ah !  you  are  a  practical  man.  That  is  a  very  sen- 
sible resolution.  But  you  can  persuade  no  one  in  that 
neighborhood  to  bear  you  company.  You  would  need 
to  take  some  person  down  with  you  from  London,  and 
the  chances  are  that  person  will  not  stay  long." 

"  Perhaps,  my  lord,  if  you  used  your  influence,  the 
chief  of  police  in  the  village  might  allow  a  constable 
to  bear  me  company.  I  do  not  mind  roughing  it  in  the 
least,  but  I  should  like  some  one  to  prepare  my  meals, 
and  to  be  on  hand  in  case  of  a  struggle,  should  your  sur- 
mise concerning  the  ghost  prove  correct." 

"  I  regret  to  inform  you,"  said  his  lordship,  "  that  the 
police  in  that  barbarous  district  are  as  suj ".  rstitious  as 
the  peasantry.  I  myself  told  the  chief  constable  my 
theory,  and  for  six  weeks  he  has  been  trying  to  run  down 
the  miscreants,  who  I  am  sure  are  making  a  rendezvous 
of  the  castle.    Would  you  believe  it,  sir,  that  the  con- 


245 


The  Triumphs  of  Eugene  Valmont 


V' 


r 


stabulary,  after  a  few  nights'  experience  in  the  cas 
threatened  to  resign  in  a  body  if  they  were  placed 
duty  at  Rantremly?  They  said  they  heard  groans  s 
shrieks,  and  the  measured  beat  of  a  clubfoot  on 
oaken  floors.  Perfectly  absurd,  of  course,  but  there  3 
are !  Why,  I  cannot  even  get  a  charwoman  or  laborer 
clear  up  the  evidences  of  the  tragedy  which  took  pi; 
there  six  weeks  ago.  The  beds  are  untouched, 
broken  china  and  the  silver  tray  lie  to-day  at  the  I 
of  the  stairway,  and  everything  remains  just  as  it  v 
when  the  inquest  took  place." 

"  Very  well,  my  lord,  the  case  presents  many  di 
culties,  and  so,  speaking  as  one  business  man  to  i 
other,  you  will  understand  that  my  compensation  mi 
be  correspondingly  great." 

All  the  assumed  dignity  which  straightened  up  tl 
man  whenever  I  addressed  him  as  "  my  lord  "  instani 
fell  from  him  when  I  enunciated  the  word  "  compens 
tion."  His  eyes  narrowed,  and  all  the  native  shrewdne 
of  an  adept  skinflint  appeared  in  his  face.  I  shall  ( 
him  the  justice  to  say  that  he  drove  the  very  best  ba 
gain  he  could  with  me,  and  I,  on  my  part,  very  deft 
concealed  from  him  the  fact  that  I  was  so  much  intc 
ested  in  the  aflfair  that  I  should  have  gone  down  to  Rai 
tremly  for  nothing  rather  than  forego  the  privilege  ( 
ransacking  Rantremly  Castle. 

When  the  new  earl  had  taken  his  departure,  walkin 
to  the  door  with  the  haughty  air  of  a  nobleman,  the 
bowing  to  me  with  the  aflfability  of  a  business  man, 
left  my  fiat,  took  a  cab,  and  speedily  found  myself  clinil 

246 


-'aeiBBh9^.''t'ise^assmr.jMastyiM, 


ont 

the  castli'. 
placed  on 
roans  and 
Dt  on  the 
there  you 
laborer  to 
ook  place 
ched,  the 
t  the  foot 
as  it  was 

lany  diffi- 
in  to  an- 
tion  must 

J  up  this 
instantly 
ompensa- 
rewdness 
shall  do 
best  har- 
ry deftly 
ch  intcr- 
i  to  Ran- 
vilege  of 

walking 
lan,  then 
i  man,  I 
If  climb- 


A  Commission  from  Lord  Rantremly 


ing  the  stair  to  the  first  floor  of  51,  Beaumont  Street, 
Strand.    As  I  paused  at  the  door  on  which  were  painted 
the    words,    "  S.    Brooks,    Stenography,    Typewriting, 
Trandation,"  I  heard  the  rapid  click-click  of  a  machine 
inside.    Knocking  at  the  door  the  writing  ceased,  and  I 
was  bidden  to  enter.    The  room  was  but  meagerly  fur- 
nished, and  showed  scant  signs  of  prosperity.  On  a  smal' 
side  table,  clean,  but  uncovered,  the  breakfast  dishes, 
washed,  but  not  yet  put  away,  stood,  and  the  kettle  on  the 
hob  by  the  dying  fire  led  me  to  infer  that  the  typewriting 
woman  was  her  own  cook.     I  suspected  that  the  awk- 
ward-looking sofa  which  partly  occupied  one  side  of 
the  room  concealed  a  bed.     By  the  lone  front  window 
stood  the  typewriting  machine  on  a  small  stand,  and 
in  front  of  it  sat  the  woman  who  had  visited  me  the 
morning  before.     She  was  now  gazing  at  me,  probably 
hoping  I  was  a  customer,  for  there  was  no  recognition 
in  her  eyes. 

"  Good  morning,  Lady  Rantremly,"  was  my  greeting, 
which  caused  her  to  spring  immediately  to  her  feet,  with 
a  little  exclamation  of  surprise. 

"  Oh,"  she  said  at  last,  "  you  are  Monsieur  Valmont. 
Excuse  me  that  I  am  so  stupid.    Will  you  take  a  chair?  " 

"  Thank  you,  madam.  It  is  I  who  should  ask  to  be 
excused  for  so  unceremonious  a  morning  call.  I  have 
come  to  ask  you  a  question.    Can  you  cook?  " 

The  lady  looked  at  me  with  some  surprise,  mingled 
perhaps  with  so  much  of  indignation  as  such  a  mild 
person  could  assume.  She  did  not  reply,  but,  glancing 
at  the  kettle,  and  then  turning  toward  the  breakfast 

247 


The  Triumphs  of  Eugene  Valmont 


r 


M!i;ii 


dishes  on  the  table  by  the  wall,  a  slow  flush  of  color  s 
fused  her  wan  cheeks. 

"My  lady,"  I  said  at  last,  as  the  silence  becai 
embarrassing,  '"  you  must  pardon  the  impulse  of  a  f( 
eigner  who  finds  himself  constantly  brought  into  cc 
flict  with  prejudices  which  he  fails  to  understand.  Y 
are  perhaps  offended  at  my  question.  The  last  pers 
of  whom  I  made  that  inquiry  was  the  young  and  bea 
tiful  Madame  la  Comtesse  de  Valerie-Moberanne,  w 
enthusiastically  clapped  her  hands  with  delight  at  t 
compliment,  and  replied  impulsively: 

Oh,  Monsieur  Valmont,  let  me  compose  for  y< 
an  omelet  which  will  prove  a  dream,'  and  she  did.  O 
should  not  forget  that  Louis  XVIII  himself  cooked  ti 
truffes  a  la  puree  d'ortolans  that  caused  the  Due  d"E 
cars,  who  partook  of  the  royal  dish,  to  die  of  an  in.'  .:. 
tion.  Cooking  is  a  noble,  yes,  a  regal  art.  I  am 
Frenchman,  my  lady,  and,  like  all  my  countrymen,  r 
gard  the  occupation  of  a  cuisinihe  as  infinitely  superi( 
to  the  manipulation  of  that  machine,  which  is  your  pn 
fession,  or  the  science  of  investigation,  which  is  mine.' 

"  Sir,"  she  said,  quite  unmollified  by  my  harangu 
speaking   with   a   lofty   pride   which    somehow   scene 
r  uch  more  natural  than  that  so  intermittently  assume 
jy  my  recent  visitor,  "  Sir,  have  you  come  to  offer  me 
situation  as  cook  ?  " 

"  Yes,  madam,  at  Rantremly  Castle." 

"You    are    going   there?"    she    demanded,    almos 
breathlessly. 

"  Yes,  madam,  I  leave  on  the  ten  o'clock  train  to 

248 


A  Commission  from  Lord  Rantremly 


morrow  morning.     I  am  commissioned  bv  Lord  Ran- 
tremly to  investigate  the  supposed  presence  of  the  ghost 
m  that  moldering  dweUing.    I  am  allowed  to  bring  with 
me  whatever  assistants  I  require,  and  am  assured  that 
"o  one  m  the  neighborhood  can  be  retained  who  dare 
sleep  m  the  castle.    You  know  the  place  very  well,  hav- 
mg  hved  there,  so  I  shall  be  glad  of  your  assistance,  if 
you  will  come.     If  there  is  any  person  whom  vou  can 
trust,  and  who  is  not  afraid  of  ghosts,  I  shall  be  delighted 
to  escort  you  both  to  Rantremly  Castle  to-morrow  " 

"  There  is  an  old  woman,"  she  said,  "  who  comes  here 
to  clear  up  my  room,  and  do  whatever  I  wish  done. 
She  ,s  so  deaf  that  she  will  hear  no  ghosts,  and  besides, 
monsieur,  she  can  cook." 

I  laughed  in  acknowledgment  of  this  last  sly  die 
at  me,  as  the  English  say.  ' 

"That  will  do  exceuently."  I  replied,  rising,  and 
placing  a  ten-pound  note  before  her.  "I  suggest 
niadam,  that  you  purchase  with  this  anything  jou  may 
need.  My  man  has  instructions  to  send  by  passenger 
ram  a  huge  case  of  provision.,  which  should  arrive 
there  before  us.  If  you  could  make  it  convenient  to 
jneet  me  at  Euston  Station  about  a  quarter  of  an  hour 
before  the  train  leaves,  we  may  be  able  to  discover  all 
Castll-      *""  ^"°''  '■^^g^'-ding  the  mystery  of  Rantremly 

Sophia  Brooks  accepted  the  mone>-  without  demur, 
and  thanked  me.  I  could  s.e  that  her  thin  hands  were 
treinbling  with  excitement  as  she  put  the  crackling  bank 
note  nito  her  purse. 

''  249 


CHAPTER  XX 


THE  GHOST  WITH   THE  CLUBFOOT 


S^"" 

:;:» 

r:^:^ 

"i»i 

f^ 

:'9 

"« 

r-T- 

'% 

••^i*.,. 

i 

C"^' 

*"**«ir!r 

'■t!S» 

*«c::: 

'•"« 

err 

"■<» 

■*■««- 

■bm 

■m— — ■ 

•^tn. 

f„ 

'1 

c.> 

;!i 

5   *.«• 


•^-■■!|| 


lARKNESS  was  coming  on  next  evening  b 
fore  we  were  installed  in  the  grim  buil 
ing,  which  at  first  sight  seemed  more  lil 
a  fortress  than  a  residence.  I  had  tel 
graphed  from  London  to  order  a  waj 
onette  for  us,  and  in  this  vehicle  we  drove  to  the  polii 
station,  where  I  presented  the  written  order  from  Loi 
Rantremly  for  the  keys  of  the  castle.  The  chief  co 
stable  himself,  a  stolid,  taciturn  person,  exhibited,  neve 
theless,  some  interest  in  my  mission,  and  he  was  go( 
enough  to  take  the  fourth  seat  in  the  wagonette,  ai 
accompany  us  through  the  park  to  the  castle,  returnii 
in  that  conveyance  to  the  village  as  nightfall  approache 
and  I  could  not  but  notice  that  this  grave  official  b 
trayed  some  uneasiness  to  get  off  before  ausk  had  cor 
pletely  set  in.  Silent  as  he  was,  I  ^oon  learned  tli 
he  entirely  disbelieved  Lord  Rantremly's  theory  that  t 
castle  harbored  dangerous  characters,  yet  s  great  w 
his  inherent  respect  for  the  nobility  that  I  could  not  i 
duce  him  to  dispute  with  any  decisiveness  his  lordshij 
conjecture.  It  was  plain  to  be  seen,  however,  that  t 
chief  constable  believed  implicitly  in  the  clubfoot 
ghost.     I  asked  him  to  leturn  the  next  morning,  as 

250 


^%^^-. 


The  Ghost  with  th^  Clubfoot 


should  spend  the  night  in  investigation,  and  might  possi- 
bly have  some  questions  to  ask  him,  questions  which 
none  but  the  chief  constable  could  answer.  The  good 
man  promised,  and  left  us  rather  hurriedly,  the  driver 
of  the  wagonette  galloping  his  horse  down  the  long, 
somber  avenue  toward  the  village  outside  the  gates. 

I  found  Sophia  Brooks  but  a  doleful  companion,  and 
of  very  little  assistance  that  evening.     She  seemed  over- 
come by  her  remembrances.    She  had  visited  the  library 
where  her  former  work  was  done,  doubtless  the  scene 
of  her  brief  love  episode,  and  she  returned  with  red  eyes 
and  trembling  chin,  telling  me  haltingly  that  the  great 
tome  from  which  she  was  workinp^  ten  years  ago,  and 
which  had  been  left  open  on  the  solid  library  table'  was 
still  there  exactly  as   she  had   placed  it   before  being 
forced  to  abandon  her  work.     For  a  decade  apparently 
no  one  had  entered  that  library.    I  could  not  but  sy.npa- 
thize  with  the  poor  lady,  thus  revisiting,  almost  herself 
like  a  ghost,  the  haunted  arena  of  her  short  happiness. 
But  though  she  proved  so  dismal  a  companion,  the  old 
woman  who  came  with  her  was  a  treasure.     Having 
lived  all  her  life  in  some  semislum  near  the  Strand,  and 
having  rarely  experienced  more  than  a  summer's-day 
glimpse  of  the  country,  the  long  journey  had  delighted 
her,  and  now  this  rambling  old  castle  in  the  midst  of 
|the  forest  seemed  to  realize  all  the  dreams  which  a  peru- 
">al  of  half-penny  fiction  had  engendered  in  her  imagina- 
'on.    She  lit  a  fire,  and  cooked  for  us  a  very  creditable 
supper,  bustling  about  the  place,  singing  to  herself  in  a 
'igh  key. 


251 


The  Triumphs  of  Eugene  Valmont 


\' 


..J- 


"Mt- 


'Mm 


Shortly  after  supper  Sophia  Brooks,  exhausted 
much  by  her  emotions  and  memories  as  by  her  lo 
journey  of  that  day,  retired  to  rest.  After  being  1 
to  myself  I  smoked  some  cigarettes,  and  finished  a  bot 
of  superb  claret  which  stood  at  my  elbow.  A  few  hoi 
before  I  had  undoubtedly  fallen  in  the  estimation  of  1 
stolid  constable  when,  inttead  of  asking  him  questif 
regarding  the  tragedy,  I  had  inquired  the  position  of  i 
wine  cellar,  and  obtained  possession  of  the  key  tl 
opened  its  portal.  The  sight  of  bin  after  bin  of  dii 
laden,  cobwebbed  bottles  did  more  than  anything  else 
reconcile  me  to  my  lonely  vigil.  There  were  some  n(i 
ble  vintages  represented  in  that  dismal  cavern. 

It  was  perhaps  half  past  ten  or  eleven  o'clock  wl 

I  began  my  investigations.     I  had  taken  the  precaut 

to  provide  myself  with  half  a  dozen  so-called  elcci 

torches  before  I  left  London.     These  give  illuminat 

for  twenty  or  thirty  hours  steadily,  and  much  longei 

the  flash  is  used  only  now  and  then.    The  torch  is  a  t!i 

tube,  perhaps  a  foot  and  a  half  long,  with  a  buU's- 

of  glass  at  one  end.     By  pressing  a  spring  the  elec 

rays  project  like  the  illumination  of  an  engine's  he 

light.    A  release  of  the  spring  causes  instant  darkn 

I  have  found  this  invention  useful  in  that  it  concentr: 

the  light  on  any  particular  spot  desired,  leaving  all 

surroundings  in  gloom,  so  that  the  mind  is  not  distrac 

even  unconsciously,  by  the  eye  beholding  more  thai 

necessary  at  the  moment.    One  pours  a  white  light  c 

any  particular  substance  as  water  is  poured  from 

nozzle  of  a  hose. 

252 


nt 

lusted  as 
her  long 
jeing  left 
d  a  bottle 
tew  hours 
ion  of  tlie 
questions 
ion  of  the 
key   that 

I    of    dust- 

ng  else  to 

ome  ntita- 

I. 

lock  wlien 

precaution 

;d  electric 

lumination 

I  longer  if 

I  is  a  thick 

buU's-eve 
he  electric 
ne's  head- 
:  darkness. 
)ncentrate! 
ing  all  the 
distracted.  I 
)re  than  is! 

light  overi 
I  from  tht' 


The  Ghost  with  the  Clubfoot 


I         The  great  house  was  almost  painfully  silent.    I  took 
I   one  of  these  torches,  and  went  to  the  foot  of  the  grand 
staircase  where  the  wicked  butler  had  met  his  death 
There,  as  his  lordship  had  said,  lay  the  silver  tray,  and 
£   near  by  a  silver  jug,  a  pair  of  spoons,  a  knife  and  fork 
:  and  scattered  all  around  the  fragments  of  broken  plates, 
.  cups,  and  saucers.     With  an  exclamation  of  surprise 
at  the  stupidity  of  the  searchers  who  had  preceded  me, 
-   I  ran  up  the  stair  two  steps  at  a  time,  turned  to  the 
I  right,  and  along  the  corridor  until  I  came  to  the  room 
\  occupied  by  the  late  earl.     The  coverings  of  the  bed 
;  lay  turneu  down  just  as  they  were  when  his  lordship 
sprang  to  the  floor,  doubtless,  in  spite  of  his  deafness, 
having  heard  faintly  the  fatal  crash  at  the  foot  of  the 
^  stairs.    A  great  oaken  chest  stood  at  the  head  of  the  bed 
.  perhaps  six  inches  from  the  wall.    Leaning  against  this 
^  chest  at  the  edge  of  the  bed  inclined  a  small,  round 
table,  and  the  cover  of  the  table  had  slipped  from  its 
sloping  surface  until  it  partly  concealed  the  chest  lid 
I  motmted  on  this  carven  box  of  old  black  oak  and 
directed  the  rays  of  electric  light  into  the  chasm  between 
't  and  the  wall.     Then  I  laughed  aloud,  and  was  some- 
what startled  to  hear  another  laugh  directly  behind  me 
I  jumped  down  on  the  floor  again,  and  swung  round 
my  torch  like  a  .oarchlight  on  a  battle  ship  at  sea.    There 
was  no  human  presence  in  that  chamber  except  myself 
Uf  course,  after  my  first  moment  of  surprise,  I  realized 
hat  the  laugh  was  but  an  echo  of  my  own.     The  old 
vails  of  the  old  house  were  like  sounding  boards.     The 
•lace  resembled  an  ancient  fiddle,  still  tremulous  with 

253 


The  Triumphs  of  Eugene  Valmont 


►•^^ :; 


1  •- 


the  music  that  had  been  played  on  it.  It  was  easy 
understand  how  a  superstitious  population  came  to  I 
lieve  in  its  being  haunted ;  in  fact,  I  found  by  experimc 
that  if  one  trod  quickly  along  the  uncovered  floor  of  t 
corridor,  and  stopped  suddenly,  one  ieemed  to  he 
the  sound  of  steps  still  going  on. 

I  now  returned  to  the  stair  head,  and  examined  t 

bare    polished    boards    with    most    gratifying    resul 

Amazed  at  having  learned  so  much  in  such  a  short  tin 

I  took  from  my  pocket  the  paper  on  which  the  dyi 

nobleman  had  attempted  to  write  with  his  half-paralyz 

hand.     The  chief  constable  had  given  the  document 

me,  and  I  sat  on  the  stair  head,  spread  it  out  on  t 

floor  and  scrutinized  it.    It  was  all  but  meaningless.    .^ 

parently  two  words  and  the  initial  letter  of  a  third  li 

been  attempted.     Now,  however  grotesque  a  piece 

writing  may  be,  you  can  sometimes  decipher  it  by  ho 

ing  it  at  various  angles,  as  those  puzzles  are  solved  wh 

remain  a  mystery  when  gazed  at  direct.   By  partia 

closing  the  eyes  yon  frequently  catch  the  intent,  as 

those  pictures  where  a  human  figure  is  concealed  amc 

the  outlines  of  trees  and  leaves.     I  held  the  paper 

arm's  length,  and  with  the  electric  light  gleaming  ii[ 

it,  examined  it  at  all  angles,  with  eyes  wide  open,  a 

eyes  half  closed.    At  last,  inclining  it  away  from  ine 

saw  that  the  words  were  intended  to  mean,  "  The  I 

cret."     The  secret,  of  course,  was  what  he  was  try: 

to  impart,  but  he  had  apparently  got  no  farther  tl 

the  title  of  it.     Deeply  absorbed  in  my  investigation 

was  never  more  startled  in  my  life  than  to  hear  in 

254 


The  Ghost  with  the  Clubfoot 


stillness  down  the   corridor   the  gasped   words    "  Oh 
God!  '• 

I  swept  round  my  light,  and  saw  leaning  against  the 
wall,  in  an  almost  fainting  condition,  Sophia  Brooks,  her 
tyes  staring  like  those  of  a  demented  person,  and  her 
face  white  as  any  ghost's  could  have  been.  Wrapped 
round  her  was  a  dressing  gown.  I  sprang  to  my 
feet. 

"  What  are  you  doing  there  ?  "  I  cried. 
"  Oh,  is  that  you,  Monsieur  Valmont  ?  Thank  GoJ, 
thank  God!  I  thought  I  was  going  insane.  I  saw  a 
hand,  a  bodiless  hand,  holding  a  white  sheet  of  paper." 
"The  hand  was  far  from  bodiless,  madam,  for  it 
belonged  to  me.  But  why  are  you  here?  It  must  be 
near  midnight." 

"  It  is  midnight,"  answered  the  woman.  "  I  came 
here  because  I  heard  my  husband  call  me  three  times 
distinctly,  *  Sophia,  Sophia,  Sophia ! '  just  like  that." 

"  Nonsense,  madam,"  I  said,  with  an  asperity  I  sel- 
dom use  where  the  fair  sex  is  concerned ;  but  I  began  to 
see  that  this  hysterical  creature  was  going  to  be  in  the 
way  during  a  research  that  called  for  coolness  and  calm- 
ness. I  was  sorry  I  had  invited  her  to  come.  "  Non- 
sense, madam,  you  have  been  dreaming." 

"  Indeed,  Monsieur  Valmont,  I  have  not.  I  have  not 
oven  been  asleep,  and  I  heard  the  words  quite  plainly. 
^  ou  must  not  think  I  am  either  mad  or  superstitious." 

I  thought  she  was  both,  and  next  moment  she  gave 
further  evidence  of  it,  running  suddenly  forward,  and 
'■lutching  me  by  the  arm. 

255 


'V 


The  Triumphs  of  Eugene  Valmont 


l^^ 

::» 

::fci 

;;»■ 

r-r- 

'  t 

^**^,- 

'1 

C^ 

",y 

'^'-^1 

■("» 

**-::  ■ 

'"ut 

J=s: 

.Ha 

:!!==="' 

^»^-»^' 

»• 

f 

gs^ 

■■.'1 

:k 

I  ^- 


"  Listen!  listen!"  she  whispered.  "You  hear  not 
ing?" 

"  Nonsense ! "  I  cried  again,  almost  roughly,  for  n 
patience  was  at  an  end,  and  I  wished  to  go  on  with  n 
inquiry  undisturbed. 

"  Hist,  hist !  "  she  whispered ;  "  listen !  "  holding  i 
her  finger.  We  both  stood  like  statues,  and  suddtn 
I  felt  that  curious  creeping  of  the  scalp  which  sho\ 
that  even  the  most  civilized  among  us  have  not  y 
eliminated  superstitious  fear.  In  the  tense  silence 
heard  some  one  slowly  coming  up  the  stair ;  I  heard  tl 
halting  step  of  a  lame  man.  In  the  tension  of  the  ni 
ment  I  had  allowed  the  light  to  go  out ;  now  recoverir 
myself,  I  pressed  the  spring,  and  waved  its  rays  bac 
ward  and  forward  down  the  stairway.  The  space  w 
entirely  empty,  yet  the  hesitating  footsteps  approach( 
us,  up  and  up.  I  could  almost  have  sworn  on  whi( 
step  they  last  struck.  At  this  interesting  moment  S 
phia  Brooks  uttered  a  piercing  shriek  and  collapsed  in 
my  arms,  sending  the  electric  torch  rattling  down  tl 
steps,  and  leaving  us  in  impenetrable  darkness.  Real  I 
I  profess  myself  to  be  a  gallant  man,  but  there  are  siti 
ations  which  have  a  tendency  to  cause  annoyance, 
carried  the  limp  creature  cautiously  down  the  stair 
fearing  the  fate  of  the  butler,  and  at  last  got  her  into  tl 
dining  room,  where  I  lit  a  candle,  which  gave  a  ligl 
less  brilliant,  perhaps,  but  more  steady  than  my  torcl 
I  dashed  some  water  in  her  face,  and  brought  her  to  h( 
senses,  then  uncorking  another  bottle  of  wine,  I  bac: 
her  drink  a  glassful,  which  she  did. 

256 


The  Ghost  with  the  Clubfoot 


"  What  was  it  ?  "  she  whispered. 

"  Madam,  I  do  not  know.  Very  possibly  the  club- 
footed  ghost  of  Rantremly." 

"  Do  you  believe  in  ghosts,  Monsieur  Valmont  ?  " 

"  Last  night  I  did  not,  but  at  this  hour  I  believe  in 

only  one  thing,  which  is  that  it  is  time  ever\one  was 
asleep." 

She  rose  to  her  feet  at  this,  and  with  a  tremulous 
little  laugh  apologized  for  her  terror,  but  I  assured  her 
that  for  the  moment  there  were  two  panic-stricken  per- 
sons at  the  stair  head.  Taking  the  candle,  and  recov- 
ering my  electric  torch,  which  luckily  was  uninjured 
by  its  roll  down  the  incline  the  butler  had  taken,  I  es- 
corted the  lady  to  the  door  of  her  room,  and  bade  her 
good  night,  or,  rather,  as  the  case  happened  to  be,  good 
morning. 

The  rising  sun  dissipated  a  slight  veil  of  mist  which 
hung  over  the  park,  and  also  dissolved,  so  far  as  I  was 
concerned,  the  phantoms  which  my  imagination  had  con- 
jured up  at  n!idnight.  It  was  about  half  past  ten  when 
the  chief  con, table  arrived.  I  flatter  myself  I  put  some 
life  into  that  unimaginative  man  before  I  was  done  with 
liim. 

"  What  made  you  think  that  the  butler  was  mounting 
the  stair  when  he  fell  ?  " 

"  He  was  going  up  with  my  lord's  breakfast,"  replied 
the  chief. 

"Then  did  it  not  occur  to  you  that,  if  such  were 
tlie  case,  the  silver  pitcher  would  not  have  been  empty, 
and,  besides  the  broken  dishes,  there  would  have  been 

»57 


The  Triumphs  of  Eugene  Valmont 


^ 

:i 

).'^' 

'» 

^=^: 

1 

"• 

r->* 

1 

^^: 

1 

**•'•-».  • 

F«» 

•-'■"sl::  ■ 

'•'• 

9  r\ 

'■>• 
II  g 

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I*^: 

"life 

r^T^^ 

1 

?^; 

;;i 

c^ 

"\ 

''^•.. 


the  rolls,  butter,  toast,  or  what  not  strewn  about  tl 
floor?" 

The  chief  constable  opened  his  eyes. 

"  There  was  no  one  else  for  him  to  bring  break  fa 
to,"  he  objected. 

"  That  is  where  you  are  very  much  mistaken.  Brit 
me  the  boots  the  butler  wore  ?  " 

"  He  did  not  wear  boots,  sir.    He  wore  a  pair 
cloth  slippers." 

"  Do  you  know  where  they  are  ?  " 

"  Yes ;  they  are  in  the  boot  closet." 

"  Very  well,  bring  them  out,  examine  their  sol« 
and  sticking  in  one  of  them  you  will  find  a  short  sliver 
pointed  oak." 

The  constable,  looking  slightly  more  stupefied  th, 
ever,  brought  the  slippers,  and  I  heard  him  ejacula 
"  Well,  I'm  blowed!  "  as  he  approached  me.  He  handi 
me  the  slippers  soles  upward,  and  there,  as  I  have  state 
was  the  fragment  of  oak,  which  I  pulled  out. 

"  Now,  if  you  take  this  piece  of  oak  to  the  top 
the  stair,  you  will  see  that  it  fits  exactly  a  slight  i 
terstice  at  the  edge  of  one  of  the  planks.     It  is  as  wi 
to  keep  one's  eyes  open,  constable,  when  investigating 
case  like  this." 

"  Well,  I'm  blowed!  "  he  said  again,  as  we  walked  i 
the  stair  together. 

I  showed  him  that  the  .sliver  taken  from  the  slipp 
fitted  exactly  the  interstice  I  had  indicated. 

"  Now,"  said  I  to  him,  "  the  butler  was  not  goii 
up  the  stairs,  but  was  coming  down.     When  he  fi 

258 


■■i 


The  Ghost  with  the  Clubfoot 

headlong  he  must  have  made  a  fearful  clatter.  Shuffling 
along  with  his  burden,  his  slipper  was  impaled  by  this 
sliver,  and  the  butler's  hands  being  full,  he  could  not 
save  himself,  but  went  headforemost  down  the  stair. 
The  startling  jwint,  however,  is  the  fact  that  he  was 
not  carrying  my  lord's  breakfast  to  him,  or  taking 
it  away  from  him,  but  that  there  is  some  one  else 
in  the  castle  for  whom  he  was  caterer.  Who  is  that 
person  ? " 

"  I'm  blessed  if  I  know,"  said  the  constable.  "  but 
I  think  you  are  wrong  there.  He  may  not  have  been 
carrying  up  the  breakfast,  but  he  certainly  was  taking 
away  the  fray,  as  is  shown  by  the  empty  dishes,  which 
you  have  jii«;t  a  moment  ago  pointed  out." 

"  No,  constable ;  when  his  lordship  heard  the  crash, 
and  sprang  impulsively  from  his  bed.  he  upset  the  little 
table  on  which  had  been  pl.ccd  his  own  tray  .  it  shot 
over  the  oaken  chest  at  the  head  of  the  hod,  and  if  you 
look  between  it  and  the  wall  you  will  find  tray,  dishes, 
and  the  remnants  of  a  breakfast." 

"Well,  I'm  blessed!"  exclaimed  the  chief  constable 
once  again. 

"  The  main  point  of  all  this."  I  went  on  calmly.  "  is 
not  the  disaster  to  the  butler,  nor  even  the  shock  to  his 
lordship,  but  the  fact  that  the  tray  the  serving  man 
carried  brought  food  to  a  prisoner,  who  probably  for  six 
weeks  has  been  without  anything  to  eat." 

"  Then."  said  the  constable,  "  he  is  a  dead  man." 

"  I  find  it  easier,"  said  I,  "  to  believe  in  a  living  man 
than  in  a  dead  man's  ghost.     I  think  I  heard  his  foot- 

259 


.  -■■*  '  --•:•■.'' ^  ti  ,■*  *''■ '  -  -■i.'-'ii-'n.  -."■■<-  ■■li 


MICROCOPY   RESOLUTION   TEST  CHART 

(ANSI  and  ISO  TEST  CHART  No.  2) 


1.0 


I.I 


36 

4.0 


1.4 


2A 

M 

2.0 
1.8 


1.6 


A     ^IPPLIED  IM/IGE 


'653   East    Mam    Sirset 

Rochesler,    New   York         14609       USA 

(716)    48?  -  0300  -  Phone 

(716)   288  -  5989  -  Ta, 


rr- 


The  Triumphs  of  Eugene  Valmont 

steps  at  midnight,  and  they  seemed  to  me  the  footsteps 
of  a  person  very  nearly  exhausted.  Therefore,  constable, 
I  have  awaited  your  arrival  with  some  impatience.  The 
words  his  late  lordship  endeavored  to  write  on  the  paper 
were  '  The  Secret.*  I  am  sure  that  the  hieroglyphics 
with  which  he  ended  his  eflfort  stood  for  the  letter  '  R,' 
and  if  he  had  finished  his  sentence,  it  would  have  stood: 
'  The  Secret  Room.'  Now,  constable,  it  is  a  matter  of 
legend  that  a  secret  room  exists  in  this  castle.  Do  you 
know  where  it  is  ?  " 

"  No  one  knows  w-here  the  secret  room  is,  or  the  way 
to  enter  it,  except  the  Lords  of  Rantremly." 

"  Well,  I  can  assure  you  that  the  Lord  of  Ran- 
tremly who  lives  in  London  knows  nothing  about  it.  I 
have  been  up  and  about  since  daylight,  taking  some 
rough  measurements  by  stepping  oflF  distances.  I  sur- 
mise that  the  secret  room  is  to  the  left  of  this  stairway. 
Probably  a  whole  suite  of  rooms  exists,  for  there  is 
certainly  a  stair  coinciding  with  this  one,  and  up  that 
stair  at  midnight  I  heard  a  clubfooted  man  ascend. 
Either  that,  or  the  ghost  that  has  frightened  you  all,  and, 
as  I  have  said,  I  believe  in  the  man." 

Here  the  official  made  the  first  sensible  remark  I 
had  yet  heard  him  utter. 

"If  the  walls  are  so  thick  that  a  prisoner's  cry  has 
not  been  heard,  how  could  you  hear  his  footsteps,  which 
make  much  less  noise  ?  " 

"  That  is  very  well  put,  constable,  and  when  the  same 
thing  occurred  to  me  earlier  this  morning,  I  began  to 
study  the  architecture  of  this  castle.    In  the  first  place, 

260 


i 


The  Ghost  with  the  Clubfoot 


the  entrance  hall  is  double  as  wide  at  the  big  doors  as  it 
is  near  the  stairway.  If  you  stand  with  your  back  to 
the  front  door  you  will  at  once  wonder  why  the  builders 
made  this  curious  and  unnecessary  right  angle,  narrow- 
ing the  farther  part  of  the  hall  to  half  its  width.  Then, 
as  you  gaze  at  the  stair,  and  see  that  marvelous  carved 
oak  newell  post  standing  like  a  monumental  column, 
you  guess,  if  you  have  any  imagination,  that  the  stair- 
way, like  the  hall,  was  once  double  as  wide  as  it  is  now. 
We  are  seeing  only  half  of  it,  and  doubtless  we  shall 
find  a  similar  newell  post  within  the  hidden  room.  You 
must  remember,  constable,  that  these  secret  apartments 
are  no  small  added  chambers.  Twice  they  have  sheltered 
a  king." 

The  constable's  head  bent  low  at  the  mention  ..  f 
royalty.  I  saw  that  his  insular  prejudice  against  me 
and  my  methods  was  vanishing,  and  that  he  had  come  to 
look  upon  me  with  greater  respect  than  was  shown  at 
first. 

"  The  walls  need  not  be  thick  to  be  impenetrable  to 
sound.  Two  courses  of  brick  and  a  space  between  filled 
with  deafening  would  do  it.  The  secret  apartment  has 
been  cut  off  from  the  rest  of  the  house  since  the  castle 
was  built,  and  was  not  designed  by  the  original  ar- 
chitect. The  partition  was  probably  built  in  a  hurry 
to  fulfill  a  pressing  need,  and  it  was  constructed  straight 
up  the  middle  of  the  stair,  leaving  the  stout  planks  in- 
tact, each  step  passing  thus,  as  it  were,  through  the  wall. 
Now,  when  a  man  walks  up  the  secret  stairway,  his  foo* 
steps  reverberate  until  one  would  swear  that  some  un- 

261 


r^:» 


•M 


The  Triumphs  of  Eugene  Valmont 

seen  person  was  treading  the  visible  boards  on  the  out 
side." 

"  By  Jove ' "  said  the  constable,  in  an  awed  tone 
of  voice. 

"  Now,  officer,  I  have  here  a  pickax  and  a  crowbar 
I  propose  that  we  settle  the  question  at  once." 

But  to  this  proposal  the  constable  demurred. 

"  You  surely  would  not  break  the  wall  without  per 
mission  from  his  lordship  in  London  ?  " 

"  Constable,  I  suspect  there  is  no  Lord  Rantremly  ir 
London,  and  that  we  will  find  a  very  emaciated  bu' 
genuine  Lord  Rantremly  within  ten  feet  of  us.  I  neec 
not  tell  you  that  if  you  are  instrumental  in  his  immc 
diate  rescue  without  the  exercise  of  too  much  red  tape 
your  interests  will  not  suffer  because  you  the  more 
speedily  brought  food  and  drink  to  the  lord  paramount  ol 
your  district." 

"  Right  you  are,"  cried  the  constable,  with  an  en- 
thusiasm for  which  I  was  not  prepared.  "  Where  shall 
we  begin  ?  " 

"  Oh,  anywhere ;  this  wall  is  all  false  from  the  en- 
trance hall  to  some  point  up  here.  Still,  as  the  butler 
was  carrying  the  meal  upstairs  I  think  we  shall  save  time 
if  we  begin  on  the  landing." 

I  found  the  constable's  brawn  much  superior  to  hi? 
brain.  He  worked  like  a  sans-ctdotte  on  a  barricade. 
When  we  had  torn  down  part  of  the  old  oak  paneling, 
which  it  seemed  such  a  pity  to  mutilate  with  ax  and 
crowbar,  we  came  upon  a  brick  wall,  that  quickly  gave 
way  before  the  strength  of  the  constable.     Then  we 

262 


The  Ghost  avith  the  Clubfoot 


i 


pulled  out  some  substance  like  matting,  and  found  a 
second  brick  wall,  beyond  which  was  a  further  shell 
of  paneling.  The  hole  we  made  revealed  nothing  but 
darkness  inside,  and  although  we  shouted,  there  was  no 
answer.  At  last,  when  we  had  hewn  it  large  enough 
for  a  man  to  enter,  I  lOok  with  me  an  electric  torch,  and 
stepped  inside,  the  constable  following,  with  crowbar  still 
in  hand.  I  learned,  as  I  had  surmised,  that  we  were  in 
the  upper  hall  of  a  staircase  nearly  as  wide  as  the  one  on 
the  outside.  A  flash  of  the  light  showed  a  door  corre- 
sponding with  the  fireplace  of  the  upper  landing,  and 
this  door  not  being  locked,  we  entered  a  large  room, 
rather  dimly  lighted  by  strongly  barred  windows  that 
gave  into  a  blind  courtyard,  of  which  there  had  been 
no  indication  heretofore,  either  outside  or  inside  the 
castle.  Broken  glass  crunched  under  our  feet,  and  I 
saw  that  the  floor  was  strewn  wit'  wi.ie  bottles  whose 
necks  had  been  snapped  oflF  to  save  the  pulling  of  the 
cork.  On  a  mattress  at  the  farther  end  of  the  room  lay 
a  man  with  gray  hair  and  shaggy,  unkempt,  iron-gray 
beard.  He  seemed  either  asleep  or  dead,  but  when  I 
turned  my  electric  light  fuil  on  his  face  he  proved  to  be 
still  alive,  for  he  rubbed  his  eyes  languidly,  and  groaned, 
rather  than  spoke: 

"  Is  that  you  at  i^.c,  you  beast  of  a  butler?  Bring 
me  something  to  eat,  in  heaven's  name !  " 

I  shook  him  wider  awake.  He  seemed  to  be  drowsed 
with  drink,  and  was  fearfully  emaciated.  When  I  got 
him  on  his  feet,  I  noticed  then  the  deformity  that  char- 
acterized one  of  them.     We  assisted  him  through  the 

263 


The  Triumphs     /  Eugene  Valmont 


£":::> 


^  ^"^••i: 


aperture,  and  down  into  the  dining  room,  where  he  ci 
out  continually  for  something  to  eat.  but  when  we  pla 
food  before  him,  he  could  scarcely  touch  it.  He  becj 
more  'ike  a  human  be  %  when  he  had  drunk  two  gla; 
of  wine,  and  I  saw  at  once  he  was  not  as  old  as  his  g 
hair  seemed  to  indicate.  There  was  a  haunted  look  in 
eyes,  and  he  watched  the  door  as  if  apprehensive. 

"  Where  is  that  butler  ?  "  he  asked  at  last. 

"  Dead,"  I  replied. 

"Did  I  kill  him?" 

"  No ;  he  fell  down  the  stairway  and  broke  his  nee 

The  man  laughed  harshly, 

"  Where  i-,  my  father?  " 

"Who  is  your  father?" 

"  Lord  Rantremly." 

"  He  is  dead  also." 

"  How  came  he  to  die?  " 

"  He  died  from  a  stroke  of  paralysis  on  the  morn 
the  butler  was  killed. 

The  rescued  man  made  no  comment  on  this, 
turned  and  ate  a  little  more  of  his  food.    Then  he  s 
to  me: 

"  Do  you  know  a  girl  named  Sophia  Brooks?  " 

"  Yes.    For  ten  years  she  thought  you  dead." 

"  Ten  years !  Good  God,  do  you  mean  to  say  I 
been  in  there  only  ten  years?  Why,  I'm  an  old  m 
I  must  be  sixty  at  least." 

"  No ;  you're  not  much  over  thirty." 

"Is  Sophia—"  He  stopped,  and  the  haunted  Ic 
came  into  his  eyes  r.gain. 

264 


ont 


re  he  cried 
we  placfi! 
le  becanie 
wo  glasses 
IS  his  gray 
look  in  hi- 
ive. 


his  neck. ' 


;  morniiij; 

this,  Init 
;n  he  saiil 


nted  look 


The  Ghost  with  the  Clubfoot 


'  Xo.    She  is  all  right,  and  she  is  here  " 
"  Here  ? " 

"Somewhere  in  the  grounds.  I  sent  her  and  the 
servant  out  for  a  walk,  and  told  them  not  to  return  till 
luncheon  time,  as  the  constable  and  I  had  something  to 
do.  and  did  not  wish  to  be  interrupted." 

The  man  ran  his  hand  through  his  long  tangled 
beard. 

"  I  should  like  to  be  trimmed  up  a  bit  before  I  see 
Sophia,"  he  said, 

"  I  can  do  that  for  you,  my  lord,"  cried  the  con- 
stable. 

••My  lord?"  echoed  the  man.     "Oh,  yes,  I  under- 
stand.   You  are  a  policeman,  are  you  not  ? " 
"  Yes,  my  lord,  chief  constable." 

"  Then  I  shall  give  myself  up  to  you.  I  killed  the 
butler." 

"  Oh,  impossible,  my  lord !  " 

"  No,  it  isn't.    The  beast,  as  I  called  him,  was  get- 
ting old,  and  one  morning  he  forgot  to  close  the  door 
behmd  him.     I  followed  him  stealthily  out,  and,  at  the 
Iiead  of  the  stair,  planted  my  foot  in  the  small  of  his  back 
which  sent  him  headlong.    There  was  an  infernal  crash! 
I  Old  not  mean  to  kill  the  brute,  but  merely  to  escape, 
and  just  as  I  was  about     j  run  down  the  stairway,  I 
was  appalled  to   see  my   father   looking   like— looking 
like— well,  I  won't  attempt  to  say  what  he  looked  like; 
but  all  my  old  fear  of  him  returned.    As  he  strode  toward 
me,  along  the  corridor,  I  was  in  such  terror  that  I 
jumped  through  the  secret  door  and  slammed  it  shut." 
iS  265 


The  Triumphs  of  Eugene   Valmont 

"  Where  is  the  secret  door  ? "  I  asked. 

"  The  secret  door  is  that  fireplace.  The  whole  f 
place  moves  inward,  if  you  push  aside  the  carved  or 
ment  at  the  left-hand  corner." 

"  Is  it  a  dummy  fireplace,  then  ?  " 

"  No,  you  may  build  a  fire  in  it,  and  the  smoke 
escape  up  the  chimney.    But  I  killed  the  butler,  consta 
though  not  intending  it,  I  swear." 

And  now  the  constable   shone   forth  like  the 
rough  diamond  he  was. 

"  My  lord,  we'll  say  nothing  about  that.    Legally 
didn't  do  it.     You  see,  there's  been  an  inquest  on 
butler,  and  the  jury  brought  in  the  verdict,  '  Death 
accident,  through  stumbling  from  the  top  of  the  st 
You  can't  go  behind  a  coroner's  inquest,  my  lord." 

"  Indeed,"  said  his  lordship,  with  the  first  laugl 
which  he  had  indulged  for  many  a  year,  "  I  don't  v 
to  go  behind  anything,  constable.    I've  been  behind 
accursed  chimney  too  long  to  wish  any  further  im{ 
onment." 


266 


.  'O^eiMii.ii-  ..m&ijSJii£Mr^Ji'M(,  ''^■'..uiiiB..  -r>.. 


ont 


vhole  fire- 
rved  orna- 


jmoke  will 
constable, 

;   the   real 

.egally  y',u 
est  on  the 
'  Death  by 
the  stair.' 
»rd." 

t  laugh  in 
don't  want 
aehind  that 
ler  imprii- 


s_I 


CHAPTER   XXI 

THE   SECRET  OF  A    NOBLE    llOL'SE 

MAN  should  present    the  whole  truth  to 
his  doctor,  his  lawyer,  or  his  detective.    If 
a  doctor  is  to  cure,  he  must  be  given  the 
full  confidence  of  the  patient;  if  a  law- 
yer is  to  win  a  case,  he  needs  to  know 
what  tells  against  his  client  as  well  as  the  points  in  his 
favor;  if  a  secret  agent  is  to  solve  a  mvsterv    all  the 
cards  should  be  put  on  the  table.    Those  who  half  trust 
a  professional  man  need  not  be  disappointed  when  re- 
suits  prove  unsatisfactory. 

A  partial  confidence  reposed  in  me  led  to  the  libera- 
tion of  a  dangerous  criminal,  caused  me  to  associate  with 
a  robber  much  against  my  oivn  inclination,  and  brought 
me  within  danger  of  the  law.  Of  course,  I  never  pre- 
tend to  possess  that  absolute  confidence  in  the  law 
which  seems  to  be  the  birthright  of  every  Englishman. 
have  lived  too  intimately  among  the  machinery  of  the 
aw  and  have  seen  too  many  of  its  ghastlv  mistakes,  to 
lold  ,t  in  that  blind  esteem  which  appears  to  be  preva- 
lent in  the  British  Isles. 

There  is  a  doggerel  couplet  which  tvpifies  this  spirit 
better  than  anything  I  can  write,  and  it  runs : 

No  rogue  ere  felt  the  halter  draw. 
With  a  good  opinion  of  the  law. 
267 


.>iJi»»j 'i-iiij;  rs 


jifh.'uakiaf^^m-t. 


T.  ilTIi 


The  Triumphs  of  Eugene  Fahnont 


C^::> 


!*■  ■>.  "• 

c::::;:> 


--•N 


Those  lines  exemplify  the  trend  of  British  thought 
this  direction.  If  you  question  a  verdicv  of  their  cot 
you  are  a  rogue,  and  that  ends  the  matter.  And 
wh'  an  Englishman  uml.rtakes  to  circumvent  the  I 
there  is  no  other  man  on  earth  who  will  go  to  gre 
lengths.  An  amazing  people!  Never  understand 
by  the  sane  of  other  countries. 

It  was  entirely  my  own  fault  that  I  became  invo 
in  affairs  which  were  almost  indefensible  and  wli 
illegal. 

My  client  first  tried  to  b-'bc  me  into  compliance  ^ 
his  wishes,  which  Lribe  I  sternly  refused.  Then 
partially  broke  down  and,  quite  unconsciously  as  I 
it,  made  an  appeal  to  the  heart — a  strange  thing  foi 
Englishman  to  do.  My  kind  heart  has  ever  been 
most  vulnerable  point.  We  French  are  sentimental 
France  has  before  now  staked  its  very  existence  fo 
ideal,  while  other  countries  fight  for  continents,  casl 
commerce.  You  cannot  pierce  me  with  a  lance  of  i 
but  wave  a  wand  o'  sympathy,  and  I  am  yours. 

There  waited  upon  me  in  my  flat  a  man  who  | 
his  name  as  Douglas   Sanderson,  which  may  or 
not  have  been  his  legitimate  title.    This  was  a  que: 
into  which  I  never  probed,  and  at  the  moment  of  ^ 
ing  am  as  ignorant  of  his  true  cognomen,  if  that 
not  it,  as  on  the  morring  he  first  met  me.    He  wa 
elderly  man  of  natural  dignity  and  sobriety,   slo\ 
speech,  almost  somber  in  dress.     His  costume  wa? 
quite  that  of  a  professional  man,  and  not  quite 
of  a  gentleman.     I  at  once  reco.xnized  the  orde 

268 


^W'tii 


ont 


thought  in 
icir  courts. 
And  yet. 
It  the  law, 
to  greater 
;rstandal>Ie 

je  involvi'tl 
md  wholly 

liancc  with 
Then  lie 
>'  as  I  take 
ling  for  a  i 
r  been  ir\ 
imentali^ts. 
:nce  for  an 
ts,  cash,  iir 
ICC  of  gold, 
rs. 

I  who  gave 
ay  or  may 
a  question 
int  of  writ- 
if  that  was 
He  was  an 
tv,  slow  in 
ne  was  not 
quite  that 
ic  order  to 


The  Secret  of  a  Noble  II 


ouse 


wliich  he  belonged,  and  a  most  difficult  class  it  is  to 
(leal  With.  He  was  the  confidential  servant  or  steward 
of  some  ancient  and  probably  noble  frrily,  embody- 
ing in  himself  all  the  faidts  and  virtues,  each  a  trifle 
accentuated,  of  the  line  he  served,  and  to  which,  in 
order  to  produce  him  and  his  like,  his  father,  grand- 
father, and  great-grandfather  had  doubtless  been  at- 
tache^!. It  is  frequently  Mie  case  that  the  honor  of  the 
house  he  serves  is  more  dear  to  him  than  it  is  to  the 
representative  of  that  house.  Such  a  man  is  almost  al- 
ways the  repository  of  family  secrets ;  a  repository  whose 
inviolability  gold  cannot  affect,  threats  sway,  or  cajolery 
influence. 

1  knew,  when  I  looked  at  him,  that  practically  I  was 
looking  at  his  master,  for  I  have  known  many  cases 
where  even  the  personal  appearance  of  the  two  were 
almost  identical,  which  may  have  given  rise  to  the  Eng- 
lish phrase,  "  Like  master,  like  man."  The  servant  was 
a  li,  more  haughty,  a  httle  less  kind,  a  little  more  ex- 
clusive, a  little  less  confidential,  a  little  more  condescend- 
ing, a  little  less  human,  a  little  more  Tory,  and  altogether 
a  'ittle  less  pK-asant  and  eajy  person  to  deal  with. 

"  Sir,"  he  i>egan,  when  I  had  waved  him  to  a  seat, 
"  I  am  a  very  lich  man,  and  can  afford  to  pay  well  for 
the  commission  I  request  you  to  undertake.  To  ask  you 
to  name  your  ov/n  terms  may  seem  unbusinesslike,  so  I 
may  ,^ay  at  the  outset  I  am  not  a  b-  iness  man.  The 
service  I  shall  ask  will  involve  the  utmost  secrecy,  and 
for  that  I  am  willing  to  pay.  It  may  expose  you  to  risk 
of  limb  or  liberty,  and  for  that  I  am  willing  to  pay.     (t 

269 


5r:;:> 


f* "» •'• 


11 


The  Triumphs  of  Eugene  Valmont 

will  probably  necessitate  the  exi)end!  are  of  a  large  su 
of  money ;  that  sum  is  at  your  disposal." 

Here  he  paused ;  he  had  sjwken  slowly  and  imprc 
sively,  with  a  touch  of  arrogance  in  his  tone  whit 
aroused  to  his  prejudice  the  combativeness  latent  in  n 
nati're.  However,  at  this  juncture  I  merely  bowed  n 
head,  and  replied  in  accents  almost  as  supercilious  as  li 
own: 

"  The  task  must  cither  be  unworthy  or  unwelconi 
In  mentioning  first  the  compensation  you  are  invertii 
the  natural  order  of  things.  You  should  state  at  tl 
outset  what  you  expect  me  to  do,  then,  if  I  accept  tl 
commission,  it  is  time  to  discuss  the  details  of  expci 
diture." 

Either  he  had  not  looked  for  such  a  reply,  or  \v; 
loath  to  open  his  budget,  for  he  remained  a  few  momcn 
with  his  eyes  bent  upon  the  floor,  and  lips  compressed 
silence.  At  last  he  went  on,  without  change  of  inflectio 
without  any  diminution  of  that  air  of  condescensic 
which  had  so  exasperated  me  in  the  b*^ginn  ig,  an 
which  was  preparing  a  downfall  for  himself  that  won! 
rudely  shake  the  cold  dignity  which  encompassed  hii 
like  a  cloak: 

"  It  is  difficult  for  a  father  to  confide  in  a  comple 
stranger  the  vagaries  of  a  beloved  son,  and  before  doin 
so  you  must  pledge  your  word  that  my  communicatic 
will  be  regarded  as  strictly  confidential." 

"  Cela  ra  sans  dire. ' 

"  I  do  not  understand  French,"  said  Mr.  Sander?o 
severely,  as  if  the  use  of  the  phrase  were  an  insult  to  hin 

270 


The  Secret  of  a  Xoblc  House 


I  replied  nonchalantly : 

"  It  means,  as  a  matter  of  Lourse,  '  That  g  cs  without 
saying.'  Whatever  you  care  to  tell  mc  abcnit  your  son 
will  be  mentioned  to  no  one.  Tray  i)rocccd,  without  fur- 
ther circumlocution,  for  my  time  is  valuable." 

"  My  son  was  always  a  little  wild  and  impatient  of 
control.  Although  everything  he  could  wish  was  at  his 
•  lisposal  here  at  home,  he  cl.o.sc  to  visit  Amc.ica,  where 
lu-  fell  into  bad  company.  I  assure  you  there  is  no  real 
harm  in  the  boy,  but  he  became  implic;<  1  with  others. 
and  has  sufTcred  severely  for  his  recklessness.  For  five 
years  he  has  been  an  inmate  of  a  prison  in  the  West. 
He  was  known  and  convicted  under  the  name  of  Wy- 
oming Ed." 
or  wa^  "  What  was  his  crime  ?  " 

"  His  alleged  crime  was  the  stopping  and  robbing 
of  a  railway  train." 

"  For  how  long  was  he  sentenced?" 

"  He  was  sentenced  for  life." 

"  What  do  you  wish  me  to  do?  " 

"  Every  appeal  has  been  made  to  the  governor  of 
the  State,  in  an  endeavor  to  obtain  a  pardon.  These 
appeals  have  failed.  I  am  informed  that  if  money 
enough  is  expended  it  may  be  possible  to  arrange  my 
son's  escape." 

"  In  other  words,  you  wish  me  to  bribe  the  officials 
of  the  jail  ^  " 

H  "  I  assure  you  the  lad  is  innocent." 

For  the  first  time  a  quiver  of  human  emotion  came 
into  the  old  man's  voice. 

271 


c-:;:> 


:i 


The  Triumph  of  Eugene  Valmont 

"  Then,  if  you  can  prove  that,  why  not  apply  i 
a  new  trial?" 

"  Unfortunately,  the  circumatances  of  the  case  of  I 
arrest  on  the  train  itself,  the  number  of  witnesses  agaii 
him,  give  me  no  hope  that  a  new  trial  would  end  in 
different  verdict,  even  if  a  new  trial  could  be  obtaim 
which  I  am  informed  is  not  possible.  Every  legal  mes 
tending  to  his  liberation  has  already  been  tried." 

"  I  see.  And  now  you  are  determined  to  adopt  il 
gal  means?  I  refuse  to  have  anything  to  do  with  1 
malpractice  you  propose.  You  objected  to  a  phrase 
French,  Mr.  Sanderson ;  perhaps  one  in  Latin  will  pie; 
you  better.  It  is  '  Veritas  prccvalcbit,'  which  mez 
*  Truth  will  prevail.'  I  shall  set  your  mind  entirely 
rest  regarding  your  son.  Your  son  at  this  moment  ( 
cupies  a  humble,  if  honorable,  position  in  the  great  hoi 
from  which  you  came,  and  he  hopes  in  time  worthily 
fill  his  father's  shoes,  as  you  have  filled  the  shoes 
your  father.  You  are  not  a  rich  man,  but  a  serva 
Your  son  never  was  in  America,  and  never  will  go  the 
It  is  your  master's  son,  the  heir  to  great  English  estat 
who  became  the  Wyoming  Ed  of  the  Western  pris( 
Even  from  what  you  say,  I  do  not  in  the  least  doi 
he  was  justly  convicted,  and  you  may  go  back  to  yc 
master  and  tell  him  so.  You  came  here  to  conceal  t 
shameful  secret  of  a  wealthy  and  noble  house ;  y 
may  return  knowing  that  secret  has  been  revealed,  a 
that  the  circumstances  in  which  you  so  solemnly  bou 
me  to  secrecy  never  existed.  Sir,  that  is  the  penalty 
lying." 

272 


)nt 

apply  for 

ase  of  his 

ES  against 

end  in  a 

obtained, 

^al  means 

Lclopt  ille- 
with  tlic 
phrase  in 
vill  please 
;h  means 
ntirely  at 
>ment  oc- 
eat  house 
orthily  to 
shoes  of 
I  servant. 
go  there. 
;h  estates, 
n  prison, 
ast  doubt 
<  to  your 
inceal  the 
use ;  you 
laled,  and 
ily  bound 
)enalty  of 


The  Secret  of  a  Noble  Ho 


use 


The  old  man's  contempt  for  me  had  been  something 
to  be  felt,  so  palpable  was  it.    The  armor  of  icy  reserve 
had  been  so  complete  that  actually  I  had  expected  to  see 
him  rise  with  undiminished  hauteur  and  leave  the  room, 
disdaining  further  parley  with  one  who  had  insulted  him. 
Doubtless  that  is  the  way  in  which  his  master  would 
have  acted,  but  even  in  the  underling  I  was  unprepared 
for  the  instantaneous  crumbling  of  this  monument  of 
pomp  and  pride.    A  few  moments  after  I  began  to  speak 
in  terms  as   severe  as  his   own,   his   trembling   hands 
grasped  the  arms  of  the  chair  in  which  he  sat,  and  his 
ever-widening  eyes,  which  came  to  regard  me  with  some- 
thing like  superstitious  dread  as  I  went  on,  showed  me 
I  hd\  launched  my  random  arrow  straight  at  the  bull's- 
eye  of  fact.     His  face  grew  mottled  and  green  rather 
than  pale.    When  at  last  I  accused  him  of  lying,  he  arose 
slowly,  shaking  like  a  man  with  a  palsy,  but,  unable  to 
support   himself  erect,   sank   helplessly   back   into   his 
chair  again.    His  head  fell  forward  to  the  table  before 
him,  and  he  sobbed  aloud. 

"  God  help  me !  "  he  cried,  "  it  is  not  my  own  secret 
I  am  trying  to  guard." 

I  sprang  to  the  door,  and  turned  the  key  in  the  lock 
so  that  by  no  chance  might  we  be  interrupted;  then, 
going  to  the  sideboard,  I  poured  him  out  a  liqueur  glass 
full  of  the  finest  Cognac  ever  imported  from  south 
of  the  Loire,  and  tapping  him  on  the  shoulder  said 
brusquely : 

'  Here,  drink  this.  The  case  is  no  worse  than  it  was 
half  an  hour  ago.    I  shall  not  betray  the  secret." 


T!2"* 


The  Triumphs  of  Eugene  Valmont 

He  tossed  off  the  brandy,  and  with  some  effort 
gained  his  self-control. 

*'  I  have   done  my  errand  badly,"   he  wailed, 
don't  know  what  I  have  said  that  has  led  you  to  so 
curate  a  statement  of  the  real  situation,  but  I  have  b 
a  blundering  fool.    God  forgive  me,  when  so  much 
pended  on  my  making  no  mistake." 

"  Don't  let  that  trouble  you,"  I  replied;  "  nothing  ; 
said  gave  me  the  slightest  clew." 

"  You  called  me  a  liar,"  he  continued,  "  and  tha 
a  hard  word  from  one  man  to  another;  but  I  would 
lie  for  myself,  and  when  I  do  it  for  one  I  revere  ; 
respect,  my  only  regret  is  that  I  have  done  it  with 
avail." 

"  My  dear  sir,"  I  assured  him,  "  the  fault  is  not  v 
yourself  at  all.  You  were  simply  attempting  the  imi 
sible.  Stripped  and  bare,  your  proposal  amounts  to  tl 
I  am  to  betake  myself  to  the  United  States,  and  tl 
commit  a  crime,  or  a  series  of  crimes,  in  bribing  sw 
officials  to  turn  traitor  to  their  duty  and  permit  a  c 
vict  to  escape." 

"  You  put  it  very  harshly,  sir.  You  must  admit  tl 
especially  in  new  countries,  there  is  lawlessness  wil 
the  law  as  well  as  outside  of  it.  The  real  criminals 
the  robbery  of  the  railway  train  escaped;  my  yoi 
master,  poor  fellow,  was  caught.  His  father,  one 
the  proudest  men  in  England,  has  grown  prematui 
old  under  the  burden  of  this  terrible  dishonor.  H< 
broken-hearted  and  a  dying  man,  yet  he  presents  an 
passive  front  to  the  world,  with  all  the  ancient  cour 

274 


ont 

effort  re- 

liled.     "  I 
i  to  so  ac 
have  bei-n 
much  de- 

jthing  you 

nd  that  is 
would  not 
evere  and 
it  without 

s  not  with 
the  impos- 
its  to  this : 
and  there 
ling  sworn 
nit  a  con- 

idmit  that, 
ess  within 
•iminals  in 
my  young 
er,  one  of 
rematurely 
jr.  He  is 
nts  an  im- 
it  courage 


The  Secret  of  a  Noble  Ho 


use 


of  his  race.    My  young  master  is  an  only  son,  and  failing 
his  appearance,  should  his  father  die,  title  and  estate  will 
pass  to  strangers.     Our  heedlessness   in   this   situation 
adds  to  its  horror.    We  dare  not  make  any  public  move. 
My  old  master  is  one  with  such  influence  among  the 
governing  class  of  this  country,  of  which  he  has  long 
been  a  member,   that  the  average   Englishman,   if  his 
name  were  mentioned,  would  think  his  power  limitless. 
Yet  that  power  he  dare  not  exert  to  save  his  own  son 
from  a  felon's  life  and  death.     However  much  he  or 
another  may  suffer,  publicity  must  be  avoided,  and  this 
is  a  secret  which  cannot  safely  be  shared  with  more  than 
those  who  know  it  now." 
"  How  many  know  it  ?  " 

"In  this  country,  three  persons.     In  an  American 
prison,  one." 

"  Have  you  kept  up  communication  with  the  vounir 
man?"  ^ 

"  Oh,  yes." 

"Direct?" 

"  No ;  through  a  third  person.    My  young  master  has 
implored  his  father  not  to  write  to  him  direct." 

"  This  go-between,  as  we  may  call  him,  is  the  third 
person  in  the  secret  ?    Who  is  he  ?  " 

"  That  I  dare  not  tell  you." 

"  Mr.  Sanderson,  it  would  be  much  better  for  your 
master  and  his.  son  that  you  should  be  more  open  with 
me.  These  half  confidences  are  misleading.  Has  the  son 
made  any  suggestion  regarding  his  release?" 

"  Oh,  yes ;  but  not  the  suggestion  I  have  put  before 

275 


-:^SmBt^^ 


The  Triumphs  of  Eugene  Valmont 

you.  His  latest  letter  was  to  the  effect  that  within 
months  or  so  there  is  to  be  an  election  for  gover 
He  proposes  that  a  large  sum  of  money  shall  be  use 
influence  this  election  so  that  a  man  pledged  to  pai 
him  may  sit  in  the  governor's  chair." 

"  I  see.  And  this  sum  of  money  is  to  be  paii 
the  third  person  you  referred  to  ?  " 

"  Yes." 

"  May  I  take  it  that  this  third  person  is  the  on 
whom  various  sums  have  been  paid  during  the  last 
years  in  order  to  bribe  the  governor  to  pardon 
young  man? " 

Sanderson  hesitated  a  moment  before  answering 
fact,  he  appeared  so  torn  between  inclination  and  c 
anxious  to  give  me  whatever  information  I  deemed 
essary,  yet  hemmed  in  by  the  instructions  with  w 
his  master  had  limited  him,  that  at  last  I  waved 
hand  and  said: 

"  You  need  not  reply,  Mr.  Sanderson.  That  t 
party  is  the  crux  of  the  situation.  I  strongly  sus 
him  of  blackmail.  If  you  would  but  name  him, 
allow  me  to  lure  him  to  these  rooms,  I  possess  a  1 
private  prison  of  my  own  into  which  I  could  thrust  1 
and  I  venture  to  say  that  before  he  had  passed  a  v 
in  darkness,  on  bread  and  water,  we  should  have 
truth  about  this  business." 

Look  you  now  the  illogical  nature  of  an  Englishn 
Poor  old  Sanderson,  who  had  come  to  me  with  a  ] 
posal  to  break  the  law  of  America,  seemed  hor 
stricken  when  I  airily  suggested  the  immuring  of  a  i 

276 


vs^£^a^mi':"^^^^M: 


lont 

within  six 

■  governor. 

be  used  to 

to  pardon 

be  paid  to 


the  one  to 
he  last  five 
pardon  the 

iwering;  in 
1  and  duty, 
eemed  nec- 
ivith  which 
waved  my 

That  third 
jly  suspect 
!  him,  and 
less  a  little 
thrust  him, 
sed  a  week 
i  have  the 

nglishman ! 
irith  a  pro- 
ed  horror- 
j  of  a  man 


The  Secret  of  a  Noble  House 


in  a  dungeon  here  in  England!  He  gazed  at  me  in 
amazement,  then  cast  his  eyes  furtively  about  him,  as 
if  afraid  a  trapdoor  would  drop  beneath  him  and  land 
him  in  my  private  oubliette. 

"Do  not  be  alarmed,  Mr.  Sanderson;  you  are  per- 
fectly safe.  You  are  beginning  at  the  wrong  end  of  this 
business,  and  it  seems  to  me  five  years  of  contributions 
to  this  third  party  without  any  result  might  have  opened 
the  eyes  of  even  the  most  influential  nobleman  in  Eng- 
land, not  to  mention  those  of  his  faithful  servant." 

"Indeed,  sir,"  said  Sanderson,  ''I  must  confess  to 
you  that  I  have  long  had  a  suspicion  of  this  third  per- 
son, but  my  master  has  clung  to  him  as  his  only  hope, 
and  if  this  third  person  were  interfered  with,  I  may  tell 
you  that  he  has  deposited  in  London,  at  some  place  un- 
known to  us,  a  full  history  of  the  case,  and  if  it  should 
happen  that  he  disappears  for  more  than  a  week  at  a 
time,  this  record  will  be  brought  to  light." 

"  My  dear  Mr.  Sanderson,  that  device  is  as  old  as 
Xoah  and  his  ark.  I  should  chance  that.  Let  me  lay  this 
fellow  by  the  heels,  and  I  will  guarantee  that  no  pub- 
licity follows," 

Sanderson  sadly  shook  his  head. 

"  Everything  might  happen  as  you  say,  sir,  but  all 
that  would  put  us  no  farther  forward.  The  only  point 
IS  the  liberation  of  my  young  master.  It  is  possible  that 
the  person  unmentioned,  whom  we  may  call  Number 
Three,  has  been  cheating  us  throughout,  but  that  is  a 
matter  of  no  consequence." 

"  Pardon  me,  but  I  think  it  is.    Suppose  your  young 

277. 


'm^ 


C^::> 


.nt» 


The  Triumphs  of  Eugene  Valmont 


master  here  and  at  liberty.  This  Number  Three  \ 
continue  to  maintain  the  power  over  him  which  he  s 
to  have  held  over  his  father  for  the  last  five  years 
"  I  think  we  can  prevent  that,  sir,  if  my  plan  is 
ried  out." 

"  The  scheme  for  bribing  the  American  officii 
yours,  then  ? " 

"  Yes,  sir,  and  I  may  say  I  am  taking  a  great 
upon  myself  in  coming  to  you.  I  am,  in  fact,  disob( 
the  implied  commands  of  my  master;  but  I  have 
him  pay  monev,  and  very  large  sums  of  money,  to 
Number  Three  for  the  last  five  years,  and  nothing 
come  of  it.  My  master  is  an  unsuspicious  man, 
has  seen  little  of  the  real  world,  and  thinks  ever 
as  !ionest  as  himself." 

"  Well,  that  may  be,  Mr.  Sanderson,  but  permi 
•to  suggest  that  the  one  who  proposes  a  scheme  of 
bery  and,  to  put  it  mildly,  an  evasion  of  the  law,  si 
some  knowledge  of  the  lower  levels  of  this  world, 
is  not  quite  in  a  position  to  plume  himself  on  his 
honesty." 

"  I  am  coming  to  tliat,  Mr.  Valmont.  My  m: 
knows  nothing  whatever  of  my  plan.  He  has  giver 
the  huge  sum  of  money  demanded  by  Number  Tl 
and  he  supposes  that  amount  has  been  already 
over.  As  a  matter  of  fact,  it  has  not  been  paid  c 
and  will  not  be  until  my  suggestion  has  been  car 
out,  and  failed.  In  fact,  I  am  about  to  use  this  mo 
all  of  it  if  necessary,  if  you  will  undertake  the  comi 
sion.     I  have  paid  Number  Three  his  usual  mon 

27S 


»^«--V>4ff-ii*r'2'.'a2K.^^;%';^»-lfl^ 


mont 


rhree  woul ! 
ich  he  seems 
e  years." 
plan  is  car- 

I  officials  is 

I  great  deal 
,  disobeying 
[  have  seen 
ney,  to  tlii> 
nothing  lia;^ 
man,  wlio 
cs  everyone 

permit  me 
erne  of  bri- 
law,  shows 
world,  and 
Dn  his  own 

My  master 
s  given  me 
iber  Three, 
ready  paid 
paid  over, 
;en  carried 
:his  money, 
le  commis- 
si monthly 


The  Secret  of  a  Noble  House 


allowance,  and  will  continue  to  do  so.  I  have  told  him 
my  master  has  his  proposal  under  consideration;  that 
there  are  still  six  months  to  come  and  go  upon,  and  that 
my  master  is  not  one  who  decides  in  a  hurrv." 

"  Xumbt     Three   says   there   is   an   election   in   six 

months  for  governor.    What  is  the  name  of  the  State  ?  " 

Sanderson  informed  me.     I  walked  to  my  bookcase, 

and  took  down  a  current  American  year  book,  consulted 

it,  and  returned  to  the  table. 

"  There  is  no  election  in  that  State,  Mr.  Sanderson, 
for  eighteen  months.  Number  Three  is  simply  a  black- 
mailer, as  I  have  suspected." 

"  Quite  so,  sir,"  replied  Sanderson,  taking  a  news- 
paper from  his  pocket.    "  I  read  in   Ijis  paper  an  account 
of  a  man  immured  in  a  Spanish  dungeon.     His  friends 
arranged  it  with  the  officials  in  this  way :  The  prisoner 
was  certified  to  have  died,  and  liis  body  was  turned  over 
to  his  relatives.    Now,  if  that  could  be  done  in  America, 
it  would  serve  two  purposes.     It  would  be  the  easiest 
way  to  get  my  young  master  out  of  the  jail.     It  would 
remain  a  matter  of  record  that  he  had  died,  therefore 
there  could  be  no  sear  !-  for  him,  as  would  be  the  case 
if  he  simply  escaped.    If  you  were  so  good  as  to  under- 
take this  task  you  might  perhaps  see  my  young  master 
in  his  cell,  and  ask  him  to  write  to  this  Number  Three, 
with  whom  he  is  in  constant  communication,  telling  him' 
lie  was  very  ill.    Then  you  could  arrange  with  the  prison 
doctor  that  this  person  was  informed  of  my  youn?  mas- 
t  t's  death."  ^ 

"  Very  well,  we  can  try  that,  but  a  blackmailer  is  not 

279 


ism^^jt^-^m-i^'im 


::•'> 


-1 

c:::;> 


err  - 


•:■ 


The  Triumphs  of  Eugene  Valmont 


so  easily  thrown  off  the  scent.    Once  he  has  tasted 
he  is  a  human  man-eating  tiger.     But  still,  there 
ways  my  private  dungeon  in  the  background,  a 
your  plan  for  silencing  him  fails,  I  guarantee  th£ 
more    drastic    and    equally    illegal    method    will 
success." 


280 


mont 


tasted  bloo'i 

there  is  al- 

und,  and  if 

itee  that  my 

will    be   a 


CHAPTER   XXII 

LIBERATING    THE    WRONG    MAN 

T  will  be  seen  that  my  scruples  concerning 
the  acceptance  of  this  commission  and  my 
first   dislike   for  the  old   man   had   both 
faded  away  during  the  conversation  wliich 
I  have  set  down  in  the  precedin<T  chapter 
I  saw  hmi  under  the  stress  of  deep  emotion,  and  latterly 
I'cgan  to  realize  the  tremendous  chances  he  was  takinr 
m  contravening  the  wdl  of  his  imperious  master.    If  the 
large  sum  of  money  was  long  withheld  from  the  black- 
mailer,  Douglas    Sanderson   ran   the   risk   of    Number 
Three  opening  up  communication  direct  with  his  master 
Investigation  would  show  that  the  old  servant  had  come 
perilously  near  laying  himself  open  to  a  charge  of  breach 
of  trust,  and  even  of  uefalcation   with  regard  to  the 
nioney.  and  all  this  danger  he  was  heroically  incurring 
for  the  unselfish  purpose  of  serving  the  interests  of  his 
cnip  oyer.     During  our  long  interview  old   Sanderson 
gradually  became  a  hero  in  my  eyes,  and  entirely  in  op- 
position to  the  resolution  I  had  made  at  the  beginning, 
1  accepted  his  commission  at  the  end  of  it. 

Nevertheless,  my  American  experiences  are  those  of 
which  I  am  least  proud,  and  all  I  care  to  sav  upon  the 
subject  IS  that  my  expedition  proved  completely  suc- 
^^  281 


The  Triumphs  of  Eugene  Valmont 


"s''« 


cessful.  The  late  convict  was  my  companion  or 
Ar otitic,  the  first  steamship  sailing  for  England 
we  reached  New  York  from  the  West,  Of  coui 
knew  that  two  or  three  :ears  roughing  it  in  m 
camps  and  on  ranches,  followed  by  five  years  in  pi 
must  have  produced  a  radical  eflfect  not  only  ot 
character,  but  also  in  the  personal  appearance  of  a 
who  had  undergone  these  privations.  Neverth 
making  due  allowance  for  all  this,  I  could  not  but 
that  the  ancient  English  family,  of  which  this  y 
man  was  the  hope  and  pride,  would  be  exceedingl} 
appointed  with  him.  In  spite  of  the  change  ^ 
grooming  and  the  wearing  of  a  civilized  costume  i 
Wyoming  Ed  still  looked  much  more  the  criminal 
the  gentleman.  I  considered  myself  in  honor  I 
not  to  make  an-  inquiries  of  the  young  man  rega 
his  parentage.  Of  course,  if  I  had  wished  to  p( 
myself  of  t'.*^  secret,  I  had  but  to  touch  a  button  i 
the  table  when  Sanderson  left  my  rooms  in  the 
perial  Flats,  which  would  have  caused  him  to  be 
owed  and  run  to  earth.  I  may  also  add  that  th 
prisoner  volunteered  no  particulars  about  himself  « 
family.  Only  once  on  board  ship  did  he  attempt  I 
tain  some  information  from  xrz  as  we  walked  u| 
down  the  deck  together. 

"You  are  acting  for  some  one  else,  I  supp 
he  said. 

"  Yes." 

"  For  some  one  in  England  ?  " 

"  Yes." 

282 


I'j* :.-»?'■'•,'  ,;. 


nont 

lion  on  tl.o 
gland  after 
)f  course  1 
:  in  mining 
■s  in  prisdii, 
>nly  on  the 
:e  of  a  man 
Nevertheless, 
not  but  fear 
this  young 
:edingly  dis- 
ange  which 
stume  made. 
riminal  than 
lonor  bound 
,n  regarding 
1  to  possess 
mtton  under 
in  the  Ini- 
to  be  shad- 
that  the  ex- 
imself  or  hi? 
tempt  to  ob- 
Iked  up  and 

[  suppose?" 


liberating  t/w  Wrong  Man 


"  He  put  up  the  money,  did  he  ?  " 
"  Yes." 

There  was  a  pause,  during  which  we  took  •  vq  or 
throe  turns  in  silence. 

"Of  course,  there's  no  secret  alwut  it."  he  said  at 
last.  "  I  expected  help  from  the  other  side,  but  Colonel 
Jmi  has  iK^en  so  mighty  long  about  it,  I  was  afraid  he'd 
for}.;ottcr.  me." 

■'  Who  is  Colonel  Jim  ?  " 

"  Colonel  Jim  Baxter.     Wasn't  it  him  gave  you  the 

money  ? " 

"  I  never  heard  of  the  m^n  before." 

"  Then  who  put  up  the  coin  ?  " 

"  Douglas  Sanderson."  I  replied,  looking  at  1  im  side- 
uje  as  I  mentioned  the  name.     It  had  apparently  no 
eflfcct  upon  him.    He  wrinkled  his  brow  for  a  moment 
then  said :  ' 

•'  Well,  if  you  never  heard  of  Baxter,  I  never  heard 
of  Sanderson." 

This  led  me  to  suspect  that  Douglas  Sanderson  did 
not  g,ve  me  his  own  name,  and  doubtless  the  address 
'.v.th  which  he  had  furnished  me  was  merely  temporary 
I  did  not  cable  to  him  from  America  regarding  the  suc- 
cess of  the  expedition,  because  I  could  not  be  certain 
't  was  a  success  until  I  was  safely  on  English  ground 
and  not  even  then,  to  tell  the  truth.    Anyhow,  I  wished 
to  leave  no  trail  behind  me,  but  the  moment  the  Aroutic 
reached  Liverpool,  I  telegraphed  Sanderson  to  meet  us 
tiiat  evening  at  my  flat. 

He  was  waiting  for  me  when  Wyoming  Ed  and  I 

283 


The  Triumphs  <tl  Engine  Valmanl 


S^::. 


entered  together.  The  old  man  was  quite  cvidcntl 
a  state  of  nervous  tension.  lie  '  ad  been  walking  up 
down  the  room  with  hands  clinched  bel.md  his  back, 
now  stood  at  the  end  farthest  from  the  door  as  he  I; 
us  approach,  with  his  hands  still  clasped  bchinc 
hack,  and  an  expression  of  deep  inxiety  upon  his  ru 
f.'  e.  All  the  electric  lamps  were  turned  on,  am 
n         was  bright  as  day. 

"  Have  you  not  brought  him  with  you^ "  he  cr 

*'  Brought  him  with  me?  "  I  echoed.  "  Here  is 
oming  Ed !  " 

The  old  mai  glared  at  him  for  a  moment  or 
stupefied,  then  moaned: 

"  Oh,  my  God,  my  God,  that  is  not  the  man !  " 

I  turned  to  my  short-haired  fellow-travel  t. 

"  You  told  me  you  were  Wyoming  Ed !  " 

He  laughed  uneasily. 

*'  Wi  1.  in  a  manner  of  speaking,  so  I  have  bee 
the  last  five  years,  but  T  wasn't  Wyoming  Ed  1 
that.      Say,  old  man,  are  you  acting  for  Colonc 

Baxter?" 

Sanderson,  on  whom  a  dozen  years  seemed  to 
fallen  since  we  entered  the  room,  appeared  una 
speak,  and  merely  shook  his  head  in  a  hopeless  s 

way. 

"  I  say,  boys,"  ejaculated  the  ex-convict,  wi 
uneasy  laugh,  half  comic,  half  bewilderea,  "  this  is 
of  mix-up,  isn't  it?  I  wish  Colonel  Jim  was  h 
explain.  I  say.  Boss,"  he  cried  suddenly,  turning 
on  me,  "  this  here  misfit's  not  my  fault.    I  didn't  < 

284 


t  J).  ■  ♦«*'::  T^«Ti5.\,i2r 


'w^ 


:'T.v".'*«rl.l.Vtf 


Liberating  the  n'rong  Man 


icnt  or  t'\  I 


I 


the  children  in  the  cradle.    You  don't  intend  to  send  mc 

back  to  that  hellhole,  do  you  ?  " 

"Xo."  I  said.  "  not  if  you  tell  the  truth.    Sit  down." 
The  late  prisoner  seated  himself  in  a  chair  as  -lose 

to  the  door  as  possible,  hitching  a  little  nearer  as  he 

sit  down.    His  face  had  taken  on  a  sharp,  craftv  aspect 

like  that  of  a  trapped  rat. 

"  You  are  perfectly  safe."  I  assured  him.    "  Sit  over 

licrc  by  the  table.    Even  if  you  bolted  through  that  door 

you  couldn't  get  out  of  this  flat.     Mr.  Sanderson,  take 

a  chair." 

The  old  man  sank  despondently  into  the  one  ncar-st 
at  hand.  .  pressed  a  button,  and  when  my  servant  en- 
tered I  said  to  him : 

"Bring  some  cognac  and   Scotch   whisky,   glasses 
and  two  siphons  of  soda." 

*  You  haven't  got  any  Kentucky  or  Canadi.in'" 
asked  the  prisoner,  moistening  his  lips.  The  jail  white- 
ness m  his  face  was  now  accentuated  by  the  pallor  of 
fear,  and  the  haunted  look  of  the  escaped  convict  glim- 
"HTcd  from  his  eyes.  In  spite  of  the  comfort  I  had  at- 
tempted to  bestow  upon  him,  he  knew  that  he  had  been 
rescued  m  mistake  for  another,  an.l  for  the  first  time 
^'ncc  he  left  prison  realized  he  was  among  strangers 
a.id  not  among  friends.  In  his  trouble  he  turned  to  the 
fjevcrage  of  his  native  continent. 

"  Bring  a  bottle  of  Canadian  whiskv."  I  said  to  the 
■•^emnt,  who  disappeared,  and  shortly  returned  with 
what  I  had  ordered.  I  locked  the  door  after  iiim.  and 
nut  the  key  in  my  {xjcket. 

285 


^^-.<*i^ 


The  Triumphs  of  Eugene  Valmont 


.cr:;:i 


"  What  am  I  to  call  you  ?  "  I  asked  the  ex-convi( 
With  a  forced  laugh  he  said :  "  You  can  call  me 
for  short." 

"  \'ery  well,  Jack,  help  yourself,"  and  he  pourec 
a  very  liberal  glass  of  the  Dominion  liquor,  refusir 
dilute  it  with  soda.  Sanderson  took  Scotch,  and  I  h< 
myself  to  a  petit  vcrre  of  brandy. 

"  Now,  Jack,"  I  began,  "  I  may  tell  you  plainly 
if  I  wished  to  send  you  back  to  prison,  I  could  m 
so  without  incriminating  myself.  You  are  legally  ( 
and  you  have  now  a  chance  to  begin  life  anew,  ar 
portunity  of  which  I  hope  you  will  take  advantage 
you  were  to  apply  three  weeks  from  to-day  at  the  p 
doors,  they  would  not  dare  admit  you.  You  are 
Does  that  console  you  ?  " 

"  Well,  squire,  you  can  bet  your  bottom  do! 
never  thought  I'd  be  pleased  to  hear  I  was  dead 
I'm  glad  if  it's  all  fixed  as  you  say,  and  you  ca 
your  last  pair  of  boots  I'm  going  to  keep  out  of  th 
in  future  if  I  can." 

"  That's  right.    Now,  I  can  promise  that  if  yo 
swer   all  my  questions  truthfully,  you   shall  be 
money  enough  to  afford  you  a  new  beginning  in 
"  Good  enough,"  said  Jack  briefly. 
"  You  were  known  in  prison  as  Wyoming  Ed  i 
"  Yes,  sir." 

"  If  that  was  not  your  name,  why  did  you  use  ii 
"  Because  Colonel  Jim,  on  the  train,  asked  me 
that.     He  said  it  would  give  him  a  pull  in  Engla 
get  me  free." 

286 


c-convict. 
all  me  Jack 

poured  oin 
refusing  tr. 
nd  I  helped 

plainly  that 
ould  not  do 
egally  dead, 
icw,  an  op- 
/antage.  1 1 
it  the  prison 
lU  are  dead. 

)m  dollar  I 
IS  dead,  but 
you  can  bet 
t  of  the  jug 

t  if  you  an- 
dl  be  given 
ing  in  life," 

iig  Ed?" 

u  use  it?" 
:ed  me  to  do 
,  England  to 


Liberating  the  Wrong  Man 


"  Did  you  know  Wyoming  Ed  ?  " 
"  Yes,  sir,  he  was  one  of  us  three  that  held  up  the 
train." 

"What  became  of  him?" 

"  He  was  shot  dead." 

"  By  one  of  the  passengers  ?  " 

There  was  silence,  during  which  the  old  man 
groaned  and  bowed  his  head.  Jack  was  studying  the 
floor.    Then  he  looked  up  at  me  and  said: 

"You   don't   expect   me   to   give   a   pal    away,   do 

you  ?  " 

"As  that  pal  has  given  you  away  for  the  last  five 
years,  it  seems  to  me  you  need  not  show  very  much  con- 
sideration for  him." 

"  I'm  not  so  sure  he  did." 

"I  am;  but  never  mind  that  point.  Colonel  Jim 
Baxter  shot  Wyoming  Ed  and  killed  him.    Why? " 

"  See  here,  my  friend,  you're  going  a  little  too  fast. 
T  didn't  say  that." 

He  reached  somewhat  defiantly  for  the  bottle  from 
Canada. 

"  Pardon  me,"  I  said,  rising  quietly,  and  taking  pos- 
session of  the  bottle  myself,  "  it  grieves  me  more  than 
I  can  say  to  restrict  my  hospitality.  I  have  never  done 
such  a  thing  in  my  life  before,  but  this  is  not  a  drink- 
ing bout ;  it  is  a  very  serious  conference.  The  whisky 
you  have  already  taken  has  given  you  a  bogus  courage 
and  a  false  view  of  things.  Are  you  going  to  tell  me  the 
truth,  or  are  you  not?" 

Jack  pondered  on  this  for  a  while,  then  he  said : 

287 


C-::;> 


"k 


.is 


Si.^ 


I 


The  Triumphs  of  Eugene  Valmont 

"  Well,  sir,  I'm  perfectly  willing  to  tell  you  the 
as  fur  as  it  concerns  myself,  but  I  don't  want  to  r 
a  friend." 

"As  I  have  said,  he  isn't  your  friend.  He  tok 
to  take  the  name  of  Wyoming  Ed,  so  that  he  i 
blackmail  the  father  of  Wyoming  Ed.  He  has  do 
for  the  last  five  years,  living  in  luxury  here  in  Lo 
and  not  moving  a  finger  to  help  you.  In  fact,  no 
would  appal  him  more  than  to  learn  that  you  are  m 
this  country.  By  this  time  he  h?-.  probably  receive 
news  from  the  prison  doctor  that  you  are  dead,  ai 
thinks  himself  safe  forever." 

"  If  you  can  prove  that  to  me — "  said  Jack. 

"  I  can  and  will,"  I  interrupted ;  then,  turnii 
Sanderson,  I  demanded : 

"  When  are  you  to  meet  this  man  next  ?  " 

"  To-night,   at  nine   o'clock,"   he   answered, 
monthly  payment  is  due,  and  he  is  clamoring  fo 
large  sum  I  told  you  of." 

"  Where  do  you  meet  him?    In  London?  " 

"  Yes." 

"  At  your  master's  town  house  ?  " 

"  Yes." 

"  Will  you  take  s  there,  and  place  us  where  w 
see  him  and  he  can't  see  us  ?  " 

"  Yes.  I  trust  to  your  honor,  Mr.  Valmont 
closed  carriage  will  call  for  me  at  eight,  and  yoi 
accompany  me.  Still,  after  all,  Mr.  \'almont,  we  ha 
assurance  that  he  is  the  same  person  this  young 
refers  to." 

288 


■:y'^M'^.r 


>  •'■ 


.'k-V 


THM' 


Wm:. 


^nf^,^sm^ 


mont 


ou  the  truth 
nt  to  rat  on 

He  told  yoti 
it  he  might 
has  done  so 
in  London, 
act,  nothing 
I  are  now  in 
received  tlie 
lead,  and  so 

ick. 
turning  to 


;red.     "  His 
•ing  for  the 


here  we  can 

'almont.     A 

ind  you  can 

,  we  have  no 

young  man 


Liberating  the  JVrong  Man 


:  \  ^"^  "'■t^'^"  he  is.    He  does  not  go  under  the  name 
of  Colonel  Jim  Baxter,  I  suppose'  " 
"  No." 

The  convict  had  been  looking  from  one  to  the  other 
of  us  dunng  this  colloquy.  Suddenly  he  drew  his  chair 
up  closer  to  the  table. 

"Look  here,"  he  said;  "you  fellows  are  square    I 
can  see  that,  and  aff^r  all's  said  an  :  .^one.  youVe  the 
man  that  got  me  out  of  clink.     Now,  I  half  suspicion 
you  re  right  about  Cc   ,nel  Jim,  but  anyhow,  I'll  tell  you 
exactly  what  happened.     Colonel  Jim  was  a  Britisher 
and  I  sup     se  that's  why  he  and  Wyoming  Ed  chummed' 
ogelher   .  good  deal.     We  called  Jim  Baxter  colonel 
but  he  never  said  he  was  a  colonel  or  anything  else 
I  was  told  he  belonged  to  the  British  arm'v,  and  that 
something  happened  in  India  so  that  he  had  to  light 
out      He  never  talked   about   himself,   but   he   was   a 
mighty  taking  fellow  when  he  laid  out  to  please  anybody. 
We  called  h.m  colonel  because  he  was  so  straight  in 
t  'e  back,  and  walked  as  if  he  were  on  parade.     When 
th>-^  young  English   tenderfoot  came  out,   he  and   the 
colonel  got  to  be  as  thick  as  thieves,  and  the  colonel  u  ,n 
a  good  deal  of  money  from  him  at  cards,  but  that  didn't 
make  any  difference  in  their  friendship.     The  colonel 
most  always  won  when  he  played  cards,  and  perhaps 
that  s  what  Parted  the  talk  about  why  he  left  the  British 
army     He  was  the  luckiest  beggar  I  ever  knew  in  that 

Lid  fi  m"''TI  ^^'  '"  "^'^  '"  ^^^  ^"^h  to  the  new 
go  d  fields  which  didn't  pan  out  worth  a  cent,  and  one 
after  another  of  the  fellows  quit  and  went  somewhere 

289 


The  Triumphs  of  Eugene  Valmont 

else.  But  Wyoming  Ed.  he  held  on,  even  after  C 
Jim  wanted  to  quit.  As  long  as  there  were  plenty  ( 
lows  there,  Colonel  Jim  never  lacked  money,  altl 
he  didn't  dig  it  out  of  the  ground,  but  when  the  fx 
tion  thinned  down  to  only  a  few  of  us,  then  we  all  i 
hard  times.  Now,  I  knew  Colonel  Jim  was  going  t( 
up  a  train.  He  asked  me  if  I  would  join  him,  and 
I  would  if  there  wasn't  too  many  in  the  gang.  W 
into  that  business  afore,  and  I  knew  there  w 
greater  danger  than  to  have  a  whole  mob  of  fe 
Three  men  can  hold  up  a  train  better  than  three  ( 
Everybody's  scared  except  the  express  messengei 
it's  generally  easy  to  settle  him,  for  he  stands  whe 
light  is,  and  we  shoot  from  the  dark.  Well,  I  th 
at  first  W'yoming  Ed  was  on  to  the  scheme,  be 
when  we  were  waiting  in  the  cut  to  signal  the  tra 
talked  about  us  going  on  with  her  to  San  Frat 
but  I  thought  he  was  only  joking.  I  guess  that  C 
Jim  imagined  that  when  it  came  to  the  pine 
wouldn't  back  out  and  leave  us  in  the  lurch;  he 
Ed  was  as  brave  as  a  lion.  In  the  cut,  where  the 
would  be  on  the  up  grade,  the  colonel  got  his  1; 
ready,  lit  it,  and  wrapped  a  thin  red  silk  handke 
round  it.  The  express  was  timed  to  pass  up  there 
midnight,  but  it  was  near  one  o'clock  when  her 
light  came  in  sight.  We  knew  all  the  passengers 
be  in  bed  in  the  sleepers,  and  asleep  in  the  smokir 
and  the  day  coach.  We  didn't  intend  to  meddle 
them.  The  colonel  had  brought  a  stick  or  two  of 
mite  from  the  mines,  and  was  going  to  blow  ope 

290 


WM 


mont 

ifter  Colonel 
plenty  of  fel- 
ey,  although 
1  the  popula- 
we  all  struck 
joing  to  hold 
n,  and  I  said 
ig.     I'd  been 
lere   was   no 
)  of  fellows. 
three  dozen. 
ssenger,  and 
ds  where  the 
11,  I  thought 
me,  because, 
the  train,  he 
n  Francisco, 
that  Colonel 
e    pinch   Ed 
ch ;  he  knew 
ere  the  train 
t  his  lantern 
handkerchief 
3  there  about 
m  her  head- 
;ngers  would 
smoking  car 
meddle  with 
two  of  dyna- 
ow  open  the 


Liberating  the  JFrong  Man 


%m 


safe  in  the  express  car,  and  climb  out  with  whatever  was 
inside. 

"  The  train  stopped  to  the  signal  all  right,  and  the 
colonel  fired  a  couple  of  shots  just  to  let  the  engineer 
know  we  meant  business.  The  engineer  and  fireman  at 
once  threw  up  their  hands,  then  the  colonel  turns  to 
Ed,  who  was  standing  there  like  a  man  poleaxed,  and 
says  to  him  mighty  sharp,  just  like  if  he  was  speaking 
to  a  regiment  of  soldiers : 

'"You   keep   these   two   men   covered.     Come   on. 
Jack!  •  h-  says  to  me,  and  then  we  steps  up  to  the  door 
of  the  express  car,  which  the  fellow  inside  had  got  locked 
and  bolted.     The  colonel  fires  his  revolver  in  through 
the  lock,  then  flung  his  shoulder  ag 'in  the  door,  and 
It  went  in  with  a  crash,  which  was  followed  instantly 
by  another  crash,  for  the  little  expressman  was  game 
right  through.    He  had  put  out  the  lights  and  was  blaz- 
mg  away  at  the  open  door.     The  colonel  sprang  for 
cover  inside  the  car,  and  wasn't  touched,  but  one  of  the 
shots  took  me  just  above  the  knee,  and  broke  my  leg  so 
I  went  down  in  a  heap.    The  minute  the  colonel  counted 
seven  shots  he  was  on  to  that  express  messenger  like  a 
tiger,  and  had  him  tied  up  in  a  hard  knot  before  you 
could  shake  a  stick.     Then  quick  as  a  wink  he  struck 
a  match  and  lit  a  lamp.     Plucky  as  the  express  mes- 
senger was,  he  looked  scared  to  death,  and  now,  when 
Colonel  Jim  held  a  pistol  to  his  head,  he  gave  up  the 
keys  and  told  him  how  to  open  the  safe.     I  had  fallen 
back  against  the  corner  of  the  car,  in^^ide,  and   was 
groaning  with  pain.    Colonel  Jim  was  scooping  out  the 

2'- 


r-:::! 


•1 


.|  ^-»1M  ••' 


The  Triumphs  of  Eugene  Valmont 

money  from  the  shelves  of  the  safe  and  stuffing  i 
a  sack. 

"  •  Are  you  hurt,  Jack  ? '  he  cried. 

"  '  Yes,  my  leg's  broke.' 

"  '  Don't  let  that  trouble  you ;  we'll  get  you  cic 
right.    Do  you  tlunk  you  can  ride  your  horse? ' 

"  '  I  don't  believe  it,'  said  I ;  '  I  guess  I'm  dont 
and  I  thought  I  was. 

"  Colonel    Jim    never    looked    round,    but    he 
through  that  safe  in  a  way  that'd  make  your  hair 
throwing  aside  the  bulky  packages  after  tearing 
open,  taking  only  cash,  which  he  thrust  into  a  b 
had  with  him,  till  he  was  loaded  like  a  millionaire, 
suddenly  he  swore,  for  the  train  began  to  move. 

"'What  is  that  fool  Ed  doing?'  he  shouted, 
to  his  feet. 

"  At  that  minute  Ed  came  in,  pistol  in  each 
and  his  face  ablaze. 

"  '  Here,  you  cursed  thief! '  he  cried,  *  I  didn't 
with  you  to  rob  a  train ! ' 

" '  Get  outside,  you  fool ! '  roared  Colonel  Jim 
outside  and  stop  this  train.  Jack  has  got  his  leg  1 
Don't  come  another  step  toward  me  or  I'll  kill  you! 

"  But  Ed,  he  walked  right  on,  Colonel  Jim  ba 
then  there  was  a  shot  that  rang  like  cannon  fire 
closed  car,  and  Ed  fell  forward  on  his  face.  C 
Jim  turned  him  over,  and  I  saw  he  had  been  hit  s 
in  the  middle  of  the  forehead.  The  train  was  now 
at  good  speed,  ""d  we  were  already  miles  away 
where  our  horses  were  tied.    I  never  heard  a  man 

292 


'^''±:  '*''■.*":-  :iit;-'>A6  ^^"-K 


'^.'•yji- 


••■■f ',-' 


^it-iiy^;' 


moni 


Liberating  the  JVrong  Man 


-iffing  it  into 


you  clear  ail 

se?" 

m  done  fur,' 


ut  lie  went 
ur  hair  curl. 
earing  them 
ito  a  bag  he 
naire.  Then 
move, 
outed,  risuig 

I  each  hand, 

didn't  come 

lel  Jim,  'Kct 
lis  leg  bfdkc. 
ill  you ! ' 
Jim  backing, 
in  fire  in  the 
ice.  Colonel 
;n  hit  square 
IS  now  goin.; 
i  away  from 
a  man  swear 


like  Colonel  Jim.  He  went  through  the  pockets  of  Ed, 
and  took  a  bundle  of  papers  that  was  inside  his  coat,  and 
this  he  stuffed  away  in  his  own  clothes.  Then  he  turned 
to  me,  and  his  voice  was  like  a  lamb: 

Jack,  old  man,'  he  said,  '  I  can't  help  you.  They're 
going  to  nab  you,  but  not  for  murder.  The  cxi)ressman 
there  will  be  your  witness.  It  isn't  murder  anyhow  on 
my  part,  but  self-defense.  You  saw  he  was  coming  at 
me  when  I  warned  him  to  keep  away.' 

"All  this  he  said  in  a  loud  voice,  for  the  express- 
man to  hear,  then  he  bent  over  to  me  and  whispered : 

"Til  get  the  best  lawyer  I  can  for  you,  but  I'm 
afraid  they're  bound  to  convict  you,  and  if  they  do,  I  will 
spend  every  penny  of  this  money  to  get  vou  free.'  You 
call  yourself  Wyoming  Ed  at  the  trial.  '  I've  taken  all 
this  man's  papers  so  that  he  can't  be  identified.  And 
don't  you  worry  if  you're  sentenced,  for  remember  I'll 
be  working  night  and  day  for  you,  and  if  money  can  get 
you  out,  you'll  be  got  out,  because  these  papers  will  help 
me  to  get  the  cash  required.  Ed's  folks  are  rich  in 
England,  so  they'll  fork  over  to  get  you  out  if  you  pre- 
tend to  be  him.'  With  that  he  bade  me  good-bv  and 
jumped  oflF  the  train.  There,  gentlemen,  that's  the  whole 
story  just  as  it  happened,  and  that's  why  I  thought  it 
was  Colonel  Jim  had  sent  you  to  get  me  fr^  ■." 

There  was  not  the  slightest  doubt  in  my  mind  that 
the  convict  had  told  the  exact  truth,  and  that  i  ght,  at 
nme  o'clock,  he  identified  Major  Renn  as  the  former 
Colonel  Jim  Baxter.  Sanderson  placed  us  in  a  gallery 
where  we  could  see,  but  could  not  hear.     The  old  man 

293 


:"<!>T"cSi<'Sili»*!t.-.. 


The  Triumphs  of  Eugene  Valmont 

seemed  determined  that  we  should  not  know  wher 
were,  and  took  every  precaution  to  keep  us  in  the 
I  suppose  he  put  us  out  of  earshot,  so  that  if  the  r 
mentioned  the  name  of  the  nobleman  we  should  n 
any  the  wiser.  We  remained  in  the  gallery  for  some 
after  the  major  had  left  before  Sanderson  came  1 
again,  carrying  with  him  a  packet. 

"  The  carriage  is  waiting  at  the  door,"  he  said,  ' 
with  your  permission,  Mr.  Valmont,  I  will  accom 
you  to  your  flat." 

I  smiled  at  the  old  man's  extreme  caution,  bi 
continued  very  gralvely: 

"  It  is  not  that,  Mr.  Valmont.     I  wish  to  cc 
with  you,  and  if  you  will  accept  it,  I  have  another 
mission  to  offer." 

"  Well,"  said  I,  "  I  hope  it  is  not  so  unsavory  a 
last."    But  to  this  the  old  man  made  no  response. 

There  was  silence  in  the  carriage  as  we  drove 
to  my  flat.  Sanderson  had  taken  the  precaution  of 
ing  down  the  blinds  of  the  carriage,  which  he  nee( 
have  troubled  to  do,  for,  as  I  have  said,  it  would 
been  the  simplest  matter  in  the  world  for  me  to 
discovered  who  his  employer  was,  if  I  had  desin 
know.  As  a  matter  of  fact,  I  do  not  know  to  thi< 
whom  he  represented. 

Once  more  in  my  room,  with  the  electric  light  ti 
on,  I  was  shocked  and  astonished  to  see  the  exprc 
on  Sanderson's  face.  It  was  the  face  of  a  man 
would  grimly  commit  murder  and  hang  for  it.  If 
the  thirst   for  vengeance  was  portrayed  on  a  hi 

294 


I  to  consult 
nother  com- 


'"His  dead  comrades  ask  the  i.-aitor  to  join  them.'" 


•  '^wiw»y;»ar^'^.:.HBS^ 


III 


..      /    '  1    T!  ,       .;  :       ■'•1     .i.'^'»t  -r.        -"-^ 


Liberating  the  JFrong 


n 


countenance,  it  was  on  his  that  night.  He  spoke  very 
quietly,  laying  down  the  packet  before  him  c.  the  table. 

"  1  think  you  will  agree  with  me."  he  said.  "  that  no 
punishment  on  earth  is  too  severe  for  that  creature  call- 
ing himself  Major  Renn." 

"I'm  willing  to  shoot  him  dead  in  the  streets  of 
London  to-morrow,"  said  the  convict,  "if  vou  irive 
the  word."  ' 

Sanderson  went  on  implacably :  "  He  not  only  mur- 
dered the  so.:,  but  for  five  years  has  l.pt  the  father  in 
an  agony  of  sorrow  and  apprehension,  bleeding  him  of 
money  all  the  time,  which  was  the  least  of  his  crimes 
To-morrow  I  shall  tell  my  master  that  his  son  has  been 
dead  these  five  years,  and  heavy  as  that  blow  must  prove, 
it  will  be  mitigated  by  the  fact  that  his  son  died  an 
honest  and  honorable  man.  I  thank  yea  for  oflFering  to 
kill  this  vile  criminal.  I  intend  that  he  shall  die,  but 
not  so  quickly  or  so  mercifully," 

Here  he  untied  the  packet,  and  took  from  it  a  photo- 
graph, which  he  handed  to  the  convict. 

"  Do  you  recognize  that  ?  " 

"Oh,  yes;  that's  Wyoming  Ed  as  he  appeared  at 
the  mme;  as,  indeed,  he  appeared  when  he  was  shot." 

The  photograph  Sanderson  then  handed  to  me. 
^  "  An  article  that  I  read  about  you  in  the  paper,  Mr. 
Valmont,  said  you  could  impersonate  anybody.     Can  you 
impersonate  this  young  man  ?  " 

"  There's  no  diflficulty  in  that,"  I  replied. 

"Then  will  you  do  this?     I  wish  you  two  to  dress  in 
tiiat  fashion.    I  shall  give  you  particulars  of  the  haunts 

295 


The  Triumphs  of  Eugene  Valmont 


'^"* 


^    ^«i>^^--' 


of  Major  Rcnn.     I  want  you  to  meet  him  togethci 
sepirately,  as  often  as  you  can,  until  you  drive  him 
or  to  suicide.     He  believes  you  to  be  deati,"  said 
derson,  addressing  Jack.     "  I   am   certain   he  ha 
news,  by  his  manner  to-night.     He  is  extremely  an 
to  f  t  the  lump  sum  of  money  which  I  have  been 
ing  back  from  him.     You  may  address  him,  for  Iv 
recognize  your  voice  as  well  as  your  person,  but  I 
Mr.  Valmont  had  better  not  speak,  as  then  he 
know  it  was  not  the  voice  of  my  poor  young  mast 
suggest  that  you  meet  him  first  together,  always  at 
The  rest  I  leave  in  your  hands,  Monsieur  X'almont 
With  that  the  old  man  rose  and  left  us. 
Perhaps  I  should  stop  this  narration  here,  for  1 
often    wondered    if    practically    I    am   guihy    of 
slaughter. 

We  did  not  meet  Major  Renn  together,  but  arr 
that  he  should  encounter  Jack  under  one  lamp-po? 
me  under  the  next.  It  was  just  after  midnight,  ai 
streets  were  practically  deserted.  The  theater  c 
had  gone,  and  the  traffic  was  represented  by  tli 
'buses,  and  a  belated  cab  now  and  then.  Major 
came  down  the  steps  of  his  club,  and  under  th 
lamp-post,  with  the  light  shining  full  upon  him 
the  convict  stepped  forth. 

"  Colonel  Jim,"  he  said,  "  Ed  and  I  are  waiti 
you.  There  were  three  in  that  robbery,  and  or 
a  traitor.    His  dead  comrades  ask  the  traitor  t 

them." 

The  major  staggered  back  against  the  lanr 

296 


tionl 

ogethcr  an  I 

vc  him  IF;  1 
,"  said  San 
he  has  tlic 
ncly  an\;  ; 
c  been  hM- 
,  for  ho  wiii 
.  but  I  tliiiil. 
:n  he  nii.i;1it 
g  mastiT.  1 
■ays  at  tii-lr. 
almont." 

e,  for  I  have 
Ity    of    ni.ui- 

but  arran;je(l 
,mp-post,  an  1 
ight,  and  tl:. 
cater  crowl- 
I  by  the  la^t 
Major  Rcnn 
ider  the  first 
Dn  him.  jack 


Liberating  the  Wrong  Man 


-Irtw  his  hand  across  his  brow,  and  muttered.  Jack 
t"!d  me  afterwards: 

•  I  must  stop  drinking!  I  must  stop  drinking!  " 
Then  he  pulled  himself  together,  and  walked 
rapi.lly  toward  the  next  lamp-post.  I  stood  out  square 
Ml  front  of  him.  but  made  no  .sound.  Ho  looked  at  me 
v.ith  distended  eyes,  while  Jack  shouted  out  in  his 
boisterous  voice,  that  had  no  doubt  often  echoed  over 
the  plain : 

"tome  on,  Wyoming  Ed,  and  never  mind  him. 
lie  must  follow." 

Then  he  gave  a  war  whoop.  The  major  did  not 
turn  round,  but  continued  to  stare  at  me,  breathing 
stertorously,  like  a  person  with  apoplexy.  I  slowly 
I'Mshod  back  my  hat,  and  on  my  brow  he  saw  the  red 
mark  of  a  bullet  hole.  He  threw  up  his  hands  and  fell 
witli  r>  crash  to  the  pavement. 

"Heart  failure"  was  the  verdict  of  the  coroner's 

jury. 


e  waiting  hr 
and  one  \va^ 
-aitor  to  join 

le  lamp-po>t 


20 


297 


•jm'd. 


•V^i^^^^-%!^# 


CHAPTER   XXIII 


■■**» '  ■  ^ 


THE    FASCINATING   LADY    ALICIA 

|ANY  Englishmen,  if  you  speak  to  t 
me,  indulge  themselves  in  a  det 
that  I  hope  they  will  not  mind  n 
ing  is  rarely  graced  by  the  delic 
innuendo  with  which  some  of  n 
countrymen  attempt  to  diminish  whatever  merit 
sess.  Mr.  Spenser  Hale,  of  Scotland  Yard,  whc 
of  imagination  I  have  so  often  endeavored  to 
alas !  without  perceptible  success,  was  good  enc 
say,  after  I  had  begun  these  reminiscences,  w 
read  with  affected  scorn,  that  I  was  wise  in 
down  my  successes,  because  the  life  of  Met 
himself  would  not  be  long  enough  to  chroni 
failures,  and  the  man  to  whom  this  was  said 
that  it  was  only  my  artfulness,  a  word  of  whic 
people  are  very  fond;  that  I  intended  to  use  t 
cesses  as  bait,  issue  a  small  pamphlet  filled  wit 
and  then  record  my  failures  in  a  thousand  v 
after  the  plan  of  a  Chinese  encyclopedia,  sellii: 
to  the  public  on  the  installment  plan. 

Ah,  well ;  it  is  not  for  me  to  pass  comment 
observations.    Every  profession  is  marred  by  ; 
jealousies,  and  why  should  the  coterie  of  dete( 
exempt?     I  hope  I  may  never  follow  an  exai 

298 


.}:^-»<.'i'f 


The  Fascinating  Lady  Alicia 


ak  to  them  of 
a  detraction 
Tiind  my  say- 
le  delicacy  df 
e  of  my  owr. 
r  merit  1  p"^- 
■d,  whose  lack 
red  to  amen;, 
)od  enouf2;h  i 
ces,  which  h- 
ise  in  settir: 
»f  Methusela': 
chronicle  n; 
,s  said  replii 
)f  which  tlie-c 
3  use  my  ?r.: 
led  with  the:: 
sand  voluiiH- 
i,  selling  the- 


nment  on  sue 

ed  by  its  Xwi- 

^ 
1 

)f  detection 

in  example  - 

deleterious,  and  thus  bo  tempicd  to  .'^^Z^TZ^ 
temp,  for  the  st.tpidi.y  with  „,     h,  ^s     h"; 

b..ed.    I  have  had  my  failures,  of    .  Mr.c      Di,    I  ever 
preten     to  be  otherwise  than  human?    Cut  what  has 

r, ''.,"""  °'  ""^  ''''"^■''    '"->•  "ave  arisen 
through  the  conservatism  of  the  English.    When  there 
■    a  mystery  to  be  solved,  the  average  Englisl  man 
nost  mvanably  places  it  in  the  hand^of  the're^, 

Th      ,.       .■"  '  ^°'"'  P*^°P''  are  utterly  baffled- 

hen  thetr  b,g  boots  have  crushed  o„.  all  eviden  e.' 
a  the  grounds  may  have  had  to  offer  to  a  dis      nilg 

".'""'■  "'''"  ""="■  clumsy  hands  have  obliterated  Z 

--::nd"f%"f:riTr™'''''™-'-''" 

What  could  you  expect ;  he  is  a  Frenchman." 

Lady  Ahca  s  emeralds.     For  two  months  the  regular 

mounded  the  alarm  to  every  thief  in  Europe     All  thi 
.-vubroKe    .  shops  of  Great  Britain  werT^n^  .  d 
■  a  robber  of  so  valuable  a  collection  would  be 
;'-»h  enough  ,0  take  it  to  a  pawnbroker.    Of   olse 
:  ;,;?''7  ^"f  "-'  "'cy  though,  the  thief  won  d  d  s.' 

tw  ::",  ""'  ""  '"=  ^™^  -"--^'X.     As 
h^^.0  ca,   .a,"  °  .?"''*•  ""'^''^^'"S  as  it  does  an 

'rinsiculth      ,   ;'      "  ""'^"^  '"  "«-  °f  "^  in- 
"I  it  'hou°    o  """■'  "'"'"■^'  "^="  '"at  the  holder 

'hus  make  more  money  by  quietly  restoring  i, 

299 


The  Triumphs  of  Eugene  Valmont 


fv 


than  by  its  dismemberment  and  sale  piecemeal? 
such  a  fuss  was  kicked  up,  such  a  furore  created 
it  is  no  wonder  the  receiver  of  the  goods  lay  lov 
said  nothing.  In  vain  were  all  ports  giving  accc 
the  Continent  watched;  in  vain  were  the  poli 
France,  Belgium,  and  Holland  warned  to  look  oi 
this  treasure.  Two  valuable  months  were  lost 
then  the  Marquis  of  Blair  sent  for  me!  I  ma; 
that  the  case  was  hopeless  from  the  moment  I 

it  up. 

It  may  be  asked  why  the  Marquis  of  Blair  al 
the  regular  police  to  blunder  along  for  two  pn 
months,  but  anyone  who  is  acqu?inted  with 
nobleman  will  not  wonder  that  he  clung  so  lonj 
forlorn  hope.  Very  few  members  of  the  Hoi 
Peers  are  richer  than  Lord  Blair,  and  still  fewer 
penurious.  He  maintained  that,  ns  he  paid  his 
he  was  entitled  to  protection  from  theft;  that  i 
the  duty  of  the  Government  to  restore  the  gem 
if  this  proved  impossible,  to  make  compensatii 
them.  This  theory  is  not  accepted  in  the  E 
courts,  and  while  Scotland  Yard  did  all  it  could  ( 
those  two  months,  what  but  failure  was  to  be  ex 
from  its  limited  mental  equipment? 

When  I  arrived  at  the  Manor  of  Blair,  as  hi 
ship's  very  ugly  and  somewhat  modern  mansion 
is  termed,  I  was  instantly  admitted  to  his  presei 
had  been  summoned  from  London  by  a  letter 
lordship's  own  hand,  on  which  the  postage  w 
paid.    It  was  late  in  the  afternoon  when  I  arrive 

300 


.^^TA 


mont 

meal?  But 
created,  tliat 
lay  low  and 
ig  access  to 
le  police  of 
look  out  fi)r 
re  lost,  and 
I  maintain 
merit  I  took 

Hair  allowed 
wo  precious 
1  with  that 
so  long  to  a 
le  House  of 
[  fewer  more 
lid  his  taxes 
;  that  it  was 
le  gems,  and 
)ensation  for 
the  English 
could  during 
)  be  expected 

•,  as  his  lord- 
lansion  house 
i  presence.  I 
letter  in  his 
tage  was  not 
[  arrived,  and 


The  Fascinating  Lady  Alicia 


our  firs  conference  was  what  might  be  termed  futile 
was  taken  up  entirely  with  haggling  about  term  ' 
the  marques  endeavoring  to  beat  down  the  price T; 
my  seruces  to  a  sum  so  insignificant  that  it  wouM 
barely  have  paid  my  expenses  from  London  to  Blair 
^nd  bac  Such  bargaining  is  intensely  distastefuUo 
m  .  W  hen  the  marquis  found  all  his  offers  declined 
-til  a  pohteness  which  left  no  opening  for  an4    o„ 

-  part,  he  endeavored  to  induce  me  fo  take  uTth^ 
-^e  on  a  commission  contingent  upon  my  recovery  o 

gems,  and  when  I  had  declined  this  for  the  tvven 
-th  tnne  darkness  had  come  on,  and  the  gong  rang 

-  dmner.     I  dined  alone  in  a  ..//.  a  ma4.-,\vhich 
appeared  to  be  set  apart  for  those  calling  at  the  man 
-on  on  busmess,  and  the  nteagerness  of  the  fare    to 
^ether    with    the    indififerent    nature    of    te     Lit" 
strengthened  my  determination  to  return  to  London 
as  early  as  possible  next  morning 

•nanVaid  ''"  7"'  "''  '""'^'  '  '"fi^^  ---g 

tnan  said  gravely  to  me : 

"The  Lady  Alicia  asks  if  you  will  be  good  enou^rh 
to  gu-e  her  a  few  moments  in  the  drawing-room,  sin" 

the  vl     ;TV      """  '"  ''"  ^---S-oom,  and  found 
t  >e  >oimg  lady  seated  at  the  piano,  on  which  she  was 
^^trunnmng  idly  and  absent-mindedh-.  but  with  f  tot^^h 
-ertheless,  that  indicated  advanced  excel.enc         the' 

jn  from  the  dmmg  table,  but  was  somewhat  primly 
and  ommonly  ,ttired,  looking  more  like  a  cottager's 
daughter  than  a  member  of  the  cottagers 


301 


great  county  family, 


mt-: 


The  Triumphs  of  Eugene  Valmon 


ri"i 


;:! 


Her  head  was  small,  and  crowned  with  a  mas 
black  hair.    My  first  impression  on  entering  th 
rather  dimly  lighted  room  was  unfavorabl-     b 
vanished  instantly  under  the  charm  of  a  mai 
graceful  and  vivacious  that  in  a  moment  I  see 
be  standing  in  a  brilliant  Parisian  salon  rather 
the    somoer    drawing-room    of    an    English    ( 
house.    Every  poise  of  her  dainty  head ;  every  i 
of  those  small,  perfect  hands;  every  modulate 
of  the  voice,  wheuher  sparkling  with  laughter  or 
ing  in  confidential  speech,  reminded  me  of  the  ^ 
dames  of  my  own   land.     It  was  strange  to  fi 
perfect  human   flower  amid  the  gloomy  uglir 
a  huge  square  house  built  in  the  time  of  the  Gc 
but  I  remembered  now  that  the  Blairs  are  the  E 
equivalent  of  the  de  Bellairs  of  France,  from 
family  sprang  the  fascinating  Marquise  de   B 
who  adorned  the  court  of  Louis  XIV.     Here, 
cing  toward  me,  was  the  very  reincarnation  of  the 
marquise,  who  gave  luster  to  this  dull  world 
three  hundred  years  ago.    Ah,  after  all,  what  a 
English  but  a  conquered  race!     I  often  forge 
and  I  tiust  I  never  remind  them  of  it,  but  it  e 
one  to  forgive  them  much.    A  vivid  twentieth-c( 
marquise  was  Lady  Alicia,  in  all  except  attire. 
a  dream  some  of  our  Parisian  dress  artists  could 
made  of  her,  and  here  she  was  immured  in  thi 
English  house  in  the  high-necked  costume  of  a 
er's  wife. 

"Welcome,    Monsieur    Valmont,"    she    eric 

302 


WbiHi^AW-, 


almont 


a  mass  of  jtt 
•ing  the  large, 
abl-     but  that 

a  manner  so 
t  I  seemed  to 
rather  than  in 
jlish    country 
every  gesture 
adulated  tone 
Iter  or  carcss- 
'f  the  grand cs 
z  to  find  Jiis 
r   uglines;-  of 
the  Georges; 
£  the  English 

from  which 

de  Bellairs. 
Here,  advan- 
.  of  the  lovely 
world  nearly 
what  are  the 

forget  this, 
ut  it  enables 
tieth-century 
ttire.  What 
s  could  have 

in  this  dull 
;  of  a  labor- 

le    cried    in 


The  Fascinating  Lady  Alicia 


I-rcrich  of  almost  faultless  intonation.    •■  I  an,  so  rf,H 
you  have  arrived,"  and  she  ffreeted  „,»       ■,  ?        ^ 
.>W  friend  of  the  family.    There    1  „o,h  7"'  '" 

-nsion  in  her  manner;  no  d  sp  v  of  h'"^  ""'" 
Mity,  while  a.  the  sami  thneteachint  °"'"  ""■ 
and  the  difference  in  our  stains  of  fe  7  ""  '"'I 
tl.e  rudeness  of  the  nobility,  bu  I  de  .  .1 ""  "'f 
«nsio„.  No;  Lady  Alicia  was  a  tu  de  Bella  " 
nl-:  ""  '°"'-'-  ^-^'"^  over  her^^letdeftaS 

-Madame  la  Marquise,  it  is  a  priviletre  to  extend  ,„ 
you  my  most  respectful  salutations  "  '" 

"Monsieur,  you  mistake  my  title      AHh^     u 
™clc  is  a  marquis,  I  am  but  Lady  AUda."""""^"  '"'' 

iour  pardon,  my  ladv      For  th^  ^ 
back   in    that    scintilfating    court   ^^hiT  '  '  ™' 

Louis  le  Grand."  "''    ^"""'""'^d 

«ieu77I  ,f  ""^""^'^  ^'^  '""•"""^  y°""elf.  mo„. 

to-morrow,  vou  will  tu^„       j  ^  ^°  y°" 

von  have  pleased  f  ""^-^^and  how  charmingly 

ious  strain,  monsturTher""''  "°'  ^^^'  '"  ^''^  ^^'- 
-  nsidered   and     !  ^'  '''■'°"'  ^"^'"^^^  *°  be 

-t-^-'-h^ 

'^n  the  tower  of  Bluebeard."  ""  ^""' 

I  fear  my  expression  as  I  bowed  to  her  must  have 

303 


Tke  Triumphs  of  Eugene  Valmont 


I 


betrayed  my  gratification  at  hearing  these  word? 
confidentially  uttered  by  lips  so  sweet,  while  the  gh 
of  her  lovely  eyes  wrs  even  more  eloquent  than 
words.  Instantly  I  felt  ashamed  of  my  chaffering  . 
terms  with  her  uncle ;  instantly  I  forgot  my  resohi 
to  depart  on  the  morrow ;  instantly  I  resolved  to  t 
what  assistance  I  could  to  this  dainty  lady.  Alas 
heart  of  Valmont  is  to-day  as  unprotected  againsi 
artillery  of  inspiring  eyes  as  ever  it  was  in  his  exti 

youth. 

"This   house,"   she   continued    vivaciously, 
been  practically  in  a  state  of  siege  for  two  mo 
I  could  take  none  of  my  usual  walks  in  the  garden 
the  lawns,  or  through  the  park  without  some  ch 
policeman  in  uniform  crashing  his  way  througl 
bushes,  or  some  detective  in  plain  clothes  acco 
me  and  questioning  me  under  the  pretense  that  h( 
a  stranger  who  had  lost  his  way.     The  lack  ( 
subtlety  in  our  police  is  something  deplorable, 
sure  the  real  criminal  might  have  passed  through 
hands  a  dozen  times  unmolested,  while  our  poor 
cent  servants,  and  the  strangers  within  our  gates, 
made  to  feel  that  the  stern  eye  of  the  law  was 
them  night  and  day." 

The  face  of  the  young  lady  was  an  entrancin 
ture  of  animated  indignation  as  she  gave  utterai 
this  truism  which  her  countrymen  are  so  slow 
preciate.    I  experienced  a  glow  of  satisfaction. 

"  Yes/'  she  went  on.  "  they  sent  down  from 
don  an  army  of  stupid  men,  who  have  kept  our  1 

304 


^.,^- 


-.rUL 


lont 


words,  so 
the  glaiuv 
t  than  n<  r 
fering  owr 
resoliUi  .Ml 
ed  to  be  of 
Alas!  tlv.' 
against  the 
lis  extretiu' 

usiy,  "ha,^ 
NO  montli.-. 
gardens,  on 
)me  chim-y 
hrough  tin- 
;s  accosliiii,' 
that  he  \va^ 
lack  of  a!! 
able.  1  am 
irough  their 
r  poor  iimi- 
■  gates,  were 
w  was  upiiii 

;rancing  pic- 
utterancc  t':i 
slow  to  ap- 
:tion. 

n  from  Lon- 
)t  our  houH- 


The  Fascinating  Lady  Alicia 


hold  in  a  state  of  abject  terror  for  eight  long  weeks, 
and  where  are  the  emeralds?" 

As  she  suddenly  asked  this  question,  in  the  most 
Parisian  of  accents,  with  a  little  outward  spreading 
uf  the  hand,  a  flash  of  the  eye,  and  a  toss  of  the  head, 
the  united  effect  was  something  indescribable  through 
the  limitations  of  the  language  I  am  compelled  to  use. 

"  Well,  monsieur,  your  arrival  has  put  to  flight  this 
tiresome  brigade,  if,  indeed,  the  word  flight  is  not  too 
airy  a  term  to  use  toward  a  company  so  elephantine, 
and  I  assure  you  a  sigh  of  relief  has  gone  up  from  the 
whole  household  with  the  exception  of  my  uncle.  I 
said  to  him  at  dinner  to-night :  '  If  Monsieur  Valmont 
had  been  induced  to  take  an  interest  in  the  case  at  first, 
the  jewels  would  have  been  in  my  possession  long  be- 
fore to-night.'  " 

"  Ah,  my  lady,"  I  protested,  "  I  fear  you  overrate 
my  poor  ability.  It  is  quite  true  that  if  I  had  been 
called  in  on  the  night  of  the  robbery,  my  chances  of 
success  would  have  been  infinitely  greater  than  they 
are  now." 

"  Monsieur,"  she  cried,  clasping  her  hands  over 
her  knees  and  leaning  toward  me,  hypnotizing  me  with 
those  starry  eyes,  "  Monsieur,  I  am  perfectly  confident 
that  before  a  week  is  past  you  will  restore  the  neck- 
lace, if  such  restoration  be  possible.  I  have  said  so 
from  the  first.  Now,  am  I  right  in  my  conjecture, 
monsieur,  that  you  come  here  alone;  that  you  bring 
with  you  no  train  of  followers  and  assistants?" 

'■  That  is  as  you  have  stated  it  my  lady." 

305 


The  Triumphs  of  Eugene  Valmont 


"  I  was  sure  of  it.    It  is  to  be  a  contest  of  trai 
mentality  in  opposition  to  our  two  months'  experic 

of  brute  force." 

Never  before  had  I  felt  such  ambition  to  succ 
and  a  determination  not  to  disappoint  took  full  ] 
session  of  me.  Appreciation  is  a  needed  stimul 
and  here  it  was  offered  to  me  in  its  most  intoxica 
form.  Ah,  Valmont.  Valmont,  will  you  never  g 
old!  I  am  sure  that  at  this  moment,  if  I  had  I 
eighty,  the  same  thrill  of  enthusiasm  would  1 
tingled  to  my  fingers'  ends.  Leave  the  Manor  of  I 
in  the  morning?    Not  for  the  Bank  of  France! 

"  Has  my  uncle  acquainted  you  with  particulai 

the  robbery  ? " 

"No,  madame,  we  were  talking  of  other  thii 
The  lady  leaned  back  in  her  low  chair,  part 
closed  her  eyes,  and  breathed  a  deep  sigh. 

"  I  can  well  imagine  the  subject  of  your  conv 
tion,"  she  said  at  last.  "The  Marquis  of  Blair 
endeavoring  to  impose  usurer's  terms  upon  you,  \ 
you,  nobly  scorning  such  mercenary  considerat 
had  perhaps  resolved  to  leave  us  at  the  earliest  o 

tunity." 

"  I  assure  you,  my  lady,  that  if  any  such  concli 
had  been  arrived  at  on  my  part,  it  vanished  the 
ment  I   was  privileged  to  set  foot  in  this  dra\ 

room." 

"  It  is  kind  of  you  to  say  that,  monsieur,  bui 
must  not  allow  your  conversation  with  my  unc 
prejudice  you  against  him.     He  is  an  old  man 

306 


-'''>■''.'  - 


|j-"?r-ff-C'Vi>  "■ 


•.V;,4>.-' 


<^- 


ont 

of  traincil 
experience 

0  succeed, 
c  full  pos- 

stimulant, 
itoxicatin^ 
lever  grow 
had  been 
ould  have 
lOr  of  Blair 
nee! 
rticulars  of 

er  thin};>." 
r,  partially 

r  convcrsa- 

Blair  was 

you,  while 

sideration>, 

•liest  oppor- 

1  conclusion 
led  the  mo- 
is  drawing- 

:ur,  but  you 
ny  uncle  to 
1  man  liow, 


The  Fascinating  Lady  Alicia 

and,  of  course,  has  his  fancies.  You  would  think  him 
mercenary,  oerhaps,  and  so  he  is ;  but  then  so,  too,  am 
I.  Oh,  yti.,  1  am,  monsieur,  frijjhtfully  mercenary. 
To  be  mercenary,  I  believe,  means  to  he  fond  of  money. 
No  one  is  fonder  of  money  than  I,  except,  perhaps, 
my  uncle;  but  you  see,  monsieur,  we  occupy  the  two 
extremes.  He  is  fond  of  money  to  lioaru  it ;  I  am  fond 
of  money  to  spend  it.  I  am  fond  of  money  for  the 
things  it  will  buy.  I  should  like  to  scatter  largess 
as  did  my  fair  ancestress  in  France.  I  should  love  a 
manor  house  in  the  country,  and  a  mansion  in  May- 
fair.  I  could  wish  to  make  everyone  around  me  happy 
if  the  expenditure  of  money  would  do  it." 

"  That  is  a  form  of  money  love,  Lady  Alicia,  which 
will  find  a  multitude  of  admirers." 

The  girl  shook  her  head  and  laughed  merrily. 

"  I  should  so  dislike  to  forfeit  your  esteem,  Mon- 
sieur Valmont,  and  therefore  I  shall  not  reveal  the 
depth  of  my  cupidity.  You  will  learn  that  probably 
from  my  uncle,  and  then  you  will  understand  my  ex- 
treme anxiety  for  the  recovery  of  the      jewels." 

"  Are  they  very  valuable  ?  " 

"  Oh,  yes ;  the  necklace  consists  of  twenty  stones, 
no  one  of  which  weighs  less  than  an  ounce.  Alto- 
gether, I  believe,  they  amount  to  two  thousand  four 
hundred  or  two  thousand  five  hundred  carats,  and 
thtir  intrinsic  value  is  twenty  pounds  a  carat  at  least. 
bo  you  see  that  means  nearly  fifty  thousand  pounds, 
yet  even  this  sum  is  trivial  compared  with  what  it  in- 
volves.   There  is  something  like  a  million  at  stake,  to- 

307 


'iii^     '.j;r 


M 


;.'"'s*v«K« 


The  Triumphs  of  Eugene  Valmont 


I 


gether  with  my  coveted  manor  house  in  the  cc 
and  my  equally  coveted  mansion  in  Mayfair.  ^ 
is  within  my  grasp  if  I  can  but  recover  the 
aids." 

The  girl  blu£.hed  prettily  as  she  noticed  h( 
tently  I   regarded  her  while  she  evolved  this 
lizing  mystery.    I  thought  there  was  a  trace  of  ( 
rassment  in  her  laugh  when  she  cried: 

"  Oh,  what  will  you  think  of  me  when  you 
stand  the  situation?     Pray,  pray   do  not  jud 
.arshly.     I  assure  you  the  position  I  aim  at 
used  for  the  good  of  others  as  well  as  for  ni 
pleasure.     If  my  uncle  does  not  make  a  confi( 
you,  I  must  take  my  courage  in  both  hands  ai 
you  all  the  partic-  a'S,  but  not  to-night.     Of 
if  one  is  to  unravel  such  a  snarl  as  that  in  wl 
find  ourselves,  he  must  be  made  aware  of  eve 
ticular,  must  he  not?" 
"  Certainly,  my  lady." 

"  Very  well,  Monsieur  Valmont,  I  shall  sup 
deficiencies  that  occur  in  my  uncle's  conv( 
with  you.  There  is  one  poinr  on  which  I  sho 
to  warn  you.  Both  my  uncle  and  the  police  ha\ 
up  their  minds  H,at  a  certain  young  man  is  the 
The  police  found  several  clews  which  apparei 
in  his  direction,  but  they  were  unable  to  *!ind 
to  justify  his  arrest.  At  first  I  could  have  s\ 
had  nothing  whatever  to  do  with  the  matter,  bi 
1  am  not  so  sure.  All  I  ask  of  you  until  wf 
another  opportunity  of  consulting  together  is 

308 


•1i  u 


Imont 


The  Fascinating  Lady  Alicia 


the  coun'ry, 
air.  All  this 
cr   the   ciiKr- 

iced  how  in- 
d  this  taiita- 
ice  of  emhar- 

n  you  uii'kr- 
ot  judjj^o  rn- 
im  at  will  111' 

for  my  (jwi! 
I  confidant  '-i 
inds  and  ;,'ive 
;.     Of  CdurM', 

in  which  w' 
cf  every  par- 


ill  supply  any 

conversation 

I  should  like 

ice  have  made 

is  the  culprit. 

ipparently  led 

o  '\x\6.  enough 

lave  sworn  he 

tter,  but  lately 

ntil  we  secure 

ther  is  to  pre- 


serve an  open  mind.     Please  do  not  allow  my  uncle 
to  prejudice  you  against  him." 

"  What  is  the  name  of  this  younjj  man?  " 

"He  is  'he  Honorable  John  Haddon." 

"The  Honorable!  Is  he  a  person  who  could  do  so 
dishonorable  an  action  ?  " 

The  young  lady  shook  her  head. 

"  I  am  almost  sure  he  would  not,  and  yet  one  never 
can  tell.  I  think  at  the  present  moment  there  are  one 
or  two  noble  lords  in  prison,  but  their  crimes  have  not 
been  mere  vulgar  housebreaking." 

"  Am  I  to  infer,  Lady  Alicia,  that  you  are  in  pos- 
session of  certain  facts  unknown  either  to  your  uncle 
or  the  police?  " 
\  es. 

"  Pardon  me,  but  do  these  facts  tend  to  incrimi- 
nate the  young  man?  " 

Again  the  young  lady  leaned  back  in  her  chair  and 
gazed  past  mf*.  a  wrinkle  of  perplexity  on  her  fair 
brow.    Thevi  said  very  slowly : 

"  You  will  understand,  Monsieur  Valmont,  how 
loath  I  am  to  speak  against  one  who  was  formerly  a 
friend.  If  he  had  been  content  to  remain  a  friend,  I 
am  sure  this  incident,  which  has  caused  us  all  such 
worry  and  trouble,  would  never  have  happened.  I  do 
not  wish  to  dwell  on  what  my  uncle  will  tell  you  was 
a  very  unpleasant  episode,  but  the  Honorable  John 
Haddon  is  a  poor  man,  and  it  is  quite  out  of  the  ques- 
tion for  one  brought  up  as  I  have  been  to  marry  into 
poverty.    He  was  very  headstrong  and  reckless  about 

J09 


The  Triumphs  of  Eugene  Valmoni 


I 


the  matter,  and  involved  my  uncle  in  a  bitter  ( 
while  discussing  it,  much  to  my  chagrin  and 
pointment.    It  is  as  necessary  for  him  to  marry 
as  it  is  for  me  to  make  a  good  match,  but  he  coi 
be  brought  to  sec  that.    Oh,  he  's  not  at  all  a  s 
young  man,  and   my  former  friendship  for  hi 
ceased.     Yet  I  should  dislike  very  much  to  ta 
action  that  might  harm  him,  therefore  I  have 
to  no  one  but  you  about  the  evidence  that  is 
hands,  and  this  you  must  treat  as  entirely  confic 
giving  no  hint   to  my   uncle,   who   is  already 
enough  against  Mr.  Haddon." 

"  Does  this  evidence  convince  you  that  he  st 
necklace?  " 

"  No;  I  do  not  believe  that  he  actually  stole 
I  am  persuaded  he  was  an  accessory  after  the 
is  that  the  legal  term?  Now,  Monsieur  Valmt 
will  say  no  more  to-night.  If  I  talk  any  longei 
this  crisis  I  shall  not  sleep,  and  I  wish,  assured  i 
help,  to  attack  the  situation  with  a  very  clear  n: 
morrow." 

When  I  retired  to  my  room,  I  found  that 
could  not  sleep,  although  I  needed  a  clear  n 
face  the  problem  of  to-morrow.  It  is  difficult 
to  describe  accurately  the  effect  this  intervic 
upon  my  mind,  but  to  use  a  bodily  simile,  I  n 
that  it  seemed  as  if  I  had  indulged  too  freely  in  : 
champagne  which  appeared  exceedingly  excel 
first,  but  from  which  the  exhilaration  had  n 
parted.     No  man  could  have  been  more  con 

310 


WW 


■Wr 


Itnont 


bitter  quarre! 
n  and  dis.-p- 
marry  wealth 

he  could  not 
all  a  sensih!.' 

for  him  ha-; 
1  to  take  any 

have  spokr!! 
hat  is  in  my 
f  confidential, 
dready   hiiter 

.t  he  stoK-  tilt.' 

y  stole  it,  liut 
ter  the  fact— 
Valinont.  w- 
longer  ahoui 
isured  of  yrmr 
:lear  miiul  to- 

d  that  I.  too, 
:lcar  minil  tu 
iflficult  for  me 
ntervicw  had 
lie,  I  may  say 
ely  in  a  subtle 
f  excellent  at 
had  now  de- 
re  completely 


77/ f  Fascinating^  J.aJy  Alicia 


under  a  spell  than  I  was  when  Lady  Alicia's  eyes  first 
told  me  more  than  her  lips  revealed ;  but  although  I 
had  challenged   her  right   to  the   title  "  mercenary  " 
when  she  applied  it  to  herself.  I  could  not  but  confess 
that  her  nonchalant  recital  regarding  the  friend  who 
desired  to  be  a  lover  jarred  upon  me.     I   found   my 
sympathy   extending   itself   to   that    unknown   young 
man.  on  whom  it  api)eared  the  shadow  of  suspicion 
already  rested.    I  was  confident  that  if  he  had  actually 
taken  the  emeralds  it  was  not  at  all  from  motives  of 
cupidity.     Indeed,  that   was  practically  shown  by  the 
fact  that  Scotland  Yard   found  itself  unable  to  trace 
the  jewels,  which  at  least  they  might  have  done  if  the 
necklace  had  been  sold  either  as  a  whole  or  dismem- 
bered.    (Jf  course,  an  emerald  weighing  an  ounce  is 
by  no  means  unusual.     The  Hope  emerald,  for  ex- 
ample, weighs  six  ounces,  and  the  gem  owned  by  the 
iJiike   of    Devonshire    measures    two    and    a    quarter 
inches  through   its  greatest  diameter.     Nevertheless, 
such  a  constellation  as  the  P.lair  emeralds  was  not  to 
In-  disposed  of  very  easily,  and  I  surmised  no  attempt 
had  been  made  either  to  sell  them  or  to  raise  rr  jney 
upon  them.     Now  that  I  had  removed  myself  from 
the  glamour  of  her  presence,  I  began  to  suspect  that 
ilie  young  lady,  af^er  all,  although  undoubtedly  pos- 
sessing the  brilliancy  of  her  jewels,  retained  also  some- 
thing of  their  hardness.    There  had  been  no  expression 
of  sympathy  for  the  discarded  friend ;  it  was  too  evi- 
flent,  recalling  what  had  latterly  passed  between  us, 
that  the  young  woman's  sole  desire,  and  a  perfectly 

3" 


SfH 


5^< 


The  Triumphs  of  Eugene  Valmont 


natural  desire,  was  to  recover  her  missing  tre 
There  was  something  behind  all  this  which  I 
not  comprehend,  and  I  resolved  in  the  morning  tc 
tion  the  Marquis  of  Elair  as  shrewdly  as  he  ca 
allow.    Failing  him,  I  should  cross-question  the 
in  a  somewhat  dryer  light  than  that  which  h; 
shrouded  me  during  this  interesting  evening, 
not  who  knows  it,  but  I  have  been  befooled  mor 
once  by  a  woman,  and  I  determined  that  in  clea 
light  I  should  resist  the  hypnotizing  influence  oi 
glorious  eyes.     Mon  Dieii!     Mon  Dicu!     How 
is  for  me  to  make  good  resolutions  when  I  j 
from  temptation! 


312 


CHAPTER   XXIV 


WHE-^E  THE  EMERALDS   WERE   FOUND 

|T  was  ten  o'clock  next  morning  when  I 
was  admitted  to  the  study  of  the  aged 
bachelor  Marquis  of  Blair.  His  keen 
eyes  looked  through  and  through  me  as 
I  seated  myself  before  him. 
"  Well !  "  he  said  shortly. 

"  My  lord,"  I  began  deliberately,  "  I  know  nothing 
more  of  the  case  than  was  furnished  by  the  accounts 
I  have  read  in  the  newspapers.  Two  months  have 
elapsed  since  the  robbery.  Every  day  that  passed 
made  the  detection  of  the  criminal  more  difficult.  I 
do  not  wish  to  waste  either  my  time  or  your  money 
on  a  forlorn  hope.  If,  therefore,  you  will  be  good 
enough  to  place  me  in  possession  of  all  the  facts  known 
to  you,  I  shall  tell  you  at  once  whether  or  not  I  can 
take  up  the  case." 

"  Do  you  wish  me  to  give  you  the  name  of  the 
I  criminal?"  asked  his  lordship. 

"  Is  his  name  known  to  you? "  I  asked  in  return. 
"  Yes.    John  Haddon  stole  the  necklace." 
" Did  you  give  that  name  to  the  police? " 
"  Yes." 

"  Why  didn't  they  arrest  him  ? " 


Sri 


:fhi 


5^:;: 


^3 


::i 


^ 


The  Triumphs  of  Eugene  Valmont 


"  Because  the  evidence  against  him  is  so  small 
the  improbability  of  his  having  committed  the  < 

is  so  great." 

"  What  is  the  evidence  against  him  ? " 

His  lordship  spoke  with  the  dry  deliberation 

aged  solicitor. 

"The   robbery   was   committed   on   the   nig 

October  the  fifth.    All  day  there  had  been  a  heavi 

and  the  grounds   were  wet.     For  reasons  into 

I    do  not   care   to  enter,   John   Haddon   was    h 

with  this  house  and  w.th  our  grounds.     He  wa 

known  to  my   servants,  and,  unfortunately,  p 

with  them,  for  he  is  an  open-handed  spendthrift 

estate  of  his  elder  brother,  Lord  Steflfenham,  a 

my  own  to  the  west,  and  Lord  Steflfenham's  he 

three  miles  from  where  we  sit.    On  the  night 

fifth  a  ball  was  given  in  the  mansion  of  Lord  S 

ham,  to  which,  of  course,  my  niece  and  mysel 

invited,  and  which  invitation  we  accepted.    I  > 

quarrel  with  the  elder  brother.    It  was  known  t 

Haddon  that  my  niece  intended  to  wear  her  n 

of  emeralds.     The  robbery  occurred  at  a  tim< 

most  crimes  of  that  nature  are  committed  in  ( 

houses,  namely,  while  we  were  at  dinner,  an  ho 

ing  which  the  servants  are  almost  invariably 

lower  part  of  the  house.    In  October  the  d?ys  ; 

ting  short.     The  night  was  exceptionally  da 

although  the  rain  had  ceased,  not  a  star  was 

The  thief  placed  a  ladder  against  the  sill  of  on 

upper  windows,  opened  it,  and  came  in.    He  mi 

314 


mont 


D  small,  and 
d  the  crime 


ration  of  an 

he  night  of 
a  heavy  rain, 
5  into  which 
was  familiar 
He  was  well 
:ely,  popular 
dthrift.  The 
ham,  adjoins 
im's  house  is 

night  of  the 
Lord  Steffen- 

myself  were 
;d.  I  had  no 
lown  to  John 

her  necklace 

a  time  when 
ed  in  country 
,  an  hour  dur- 
iriably  in  the 
:  d?ys  are  get- 
illy  dark,  to- 
Lf  was  visible. 
I  of  one  of  the 

He  must  have 


Where  the  Emeralds  u^ere  Found 


been  perfectly  familiar  with  the  house,  for  there  are 
evidences  that  he  went  direct  to  the  boudoir  where  the 
jewel  case  had  been  carelessly  left  on  my  niece's 
dressing  table  when  she  came  down  to  dinner.  It  had 
been  taken  from  the  strong  room  about  an  hour  be- 
fore. The  box  was  locked,  but,  of  course,  that  made 
no  difference.  The  thief  wrenched  the  lid  off,  break- 
ing the  lock,  stole  the  necklace,  and  escaped  by  the  way 
he  came." 

"  Did  he  leave  the  window  open  and  the  ladder  in 
place?" 
"  Yes." 

"Doesn't  that  strike  you  as  very  extraordinary?" 
"Xo.     I  do  not  assert  that  he  is  a  professional 
burglar,  who  would  take  all  the  precautions  against 
J  the  discovery  that  might  have  been  expected  from  one 
^  of  the  craft.    Indeed,  the  man's  carelessness  in  going 
j  straight  across  the  country  to  his  brother's  house,  and 
I  leaving  footsteps  in   the  soft   earth,   easily  traceable 
almost  to  the  very  boundary  fence,  shows  he  is  in- 
Icapable  of  any  serious  thought." 
"  Is  John  Haddon  rich  ?  " 
"He  hasn't  a  penny." 
"  Did  you  go  to  the  ball  that  night?  " 
"  Yes ;  I  had  promised  to  go." 
"  Was  John  Haddon  there  ?  " 

"  Yes ;  but  he  appeared  late.    He  should  have  been 

resent  at  the  opening,  and  his  brother  was  seriously 

nnoyed  by  his  absence.    When  he  did  come  he  acted 

a  wild  and  reckless  manner,  which  gave  the  guests 

315 


The  Triumphs  of  Eugene  Valmont 


Ti^ 


the  impression  that  he  had  been  drinking.     Bo 
niece  and  myself  were  disgusted  with  his  actioi 

"  Do  you  think  your  niece  ^  ispects  him  ?  " 

"  She  certainly  did  not  at  first,  and  was  ind 
when  I  told  her,  coming  home  from  the  ball,  tl 
jewels  were  undoubtedly  in  Steflfenham  Houst 
thou^^  they  were  not  round  her  neck,  but  lat 
think  her  opinion  has  changed." 

"  To  go  back  a  moment.  Did  any  of  your  s( 
see  him  prowling  about  the  place? " 

"  They  all  say  they  didn't,  but  I  myself  sa 
just  before  dusk,  coming  across  the  fields  towa 
hous'^^.  and  next  morning  we  found  the  same  foe 
both  going  and  coming.  It  seems  to  me  the  ( 
staatial  evidence  is  rather  strong." 

"  It's  a  pity  that  no  one  but  yourself  sa 
What    more    evidence    are    the    authorities 
for?" 

"  They  are  waiting  until  he  attempts  to  dis 

the  jewels." 

"  You  think,  then,  he  has  not  done  so  up  to 

"  I  think  he  will  never  do  so." 

"  Then  why  did  he  steal  them  ?  " 

"  To  prevent  the  marriage  of  my  niece  wit 

Carter,  of  Sheffield,  to  whom  she  is  betrothed 

were  to  be  married  early  in  the  new  year." 
"  My  lord,  you  amaze  me.    If  Mr.  Carter  ar 

Alicia  are  engaged,  why  should  the  theft  of  th( 

interfere  with  the  ceremony  ?  " 

"  Mr.  Jonas  Carter  is  a  most  estimable  ma 

316 


'MK 


Imont 

g.      Both  !•  ;, 
i  actions.' 
im? 

,ras  indign mt 

ball,  that  tur 

House,  even 

DUt  latterly  I 

jrour  servant- 
self  saw  him, 
s  towartl  this 
.me  footprint^ 
e  the  circur.i- 

self  saw  hini 
•ities    waiting 

to  dispose  oi 

I  up  to  date' 


:ce  with  Jonas 

rothed.    They 

ir." 

irter  and  Lady 

t  of  the  je\vel5 

ble  man,  who, 


'  Mr.  Jonas  Caiter." 


mm"¥:-M 


rs"* 


(^N-. 

»*^^"< 


!S: 


1 


^  ^ 


■^m^ 


"l^^^^^P^ 


fVhere  the  Emeralds  were  Found 


however,  does  not  move  in  our  sphere  of  life     He  is 
connected   with   the   steel  or  cutlery   industry,   and   is 
a  person  of  great  wealth,  rising  upward  of  a  million. 
^v.th  a  large  estate  in  Derbyshire,  and  a  house  front- 
.ng  Hyde  Park,  in  London.    He  is  a  very  strict  busi- 
ness  man,  and  both  my  niece  and  mvself  agree  that 
he  IS  also  an  eligible  man.    I  myself  am  rather  strict 
.n  matters  of  business,  and  I  must  admit  that  Mr 
Carter  showed  a  very  generous  spirit   in  arranging 
the  preliminaries  of  the  engagement  with  me.     When 
Alicia's  father  died  he  had  run  through  all  the  money 
he  himself  possessed  or  could  borrow  from  his  friends 
Although  a  man  of  noble  birth,  I  never  liked  him.    He 
was  married  to  my  only  sister.    The  Blair  emeralds, 
as  perhaps  you  know,  descend  down  the  female  line. 
Ihey,  therefore,  came  to  my  niece  from  her  mother 
My  poor  sister  had  long  been   disillusioned   before 
death  released  her  from  the  titled  scamp  she  had  mar- 
ried, and  she  very  wisely  placed  the  emeralds  in  my 
custody  to  be  held  in  trust  for  her  daughter.     They 
constitute  my  niece's  only  fortune,  and  would  produce 
if  offered  in  London  to-day,  probably  seventy-five  or 
a  hundred  thousand  pounds,  although  actually  they  are 
not  worth  so  much.    Mr.  Jonas  Carter  very  amiably 
consented  to  receive  my  niece  with  a  dowry  of  only 
hfty  thousand  pounds,  and  that  money  I  oflfered  to 
advance,  if  I  was  allowed   to  retain   the  jewels  as 
security.    This  was  arranged  between  Mr.  Carter  and 
myself." 

"  But  surely  Mr.  Carter  does  not  refuse  to  carry 

317 


mm^m.m^'w^^i^r^' 


The  Triumphs  of  Eugene  Valmont 


^1 


"••i 

«>ii 


-^1 


out  his   engagement   because   the   jewels   have 

stolen? " 

"He  does.    Why  should  he  not?" 

"  Then  surely  you  will  advance  the  fifty  th( 

necessary  ? " 

"  I  will  not.    Why  should  I  ?  " 

"Well,  it  seems  to  me,"  said  I,  with  a 
laugh,  "  the  young  man  has  very  definitely  checl 
both  of  you." 

"  He  has,  until  I  have  laid  him  by  the  heels 
I  am  determined  to  do  if  he  were  the  brother  of 
Lord  Steflfenhams." 

"  Please  answer  one  more  question.  Are  ; 
termined  to  put  the  young  man  in  prison,  or 
you    be    content    with    the    return    of    the    ei 

intact?" 

"  Of  course  I  should  prefer  to  put  him  in  pn 

get  the  emeralds  too,  but  if  there's  no  choice 

matter,  I  must  content  myself  with  the  neck 

"  Very  well,  my  lord,  I  will  undertake  the 

This  conference  had  detained  us  in  the  si 

after  eleven,  and  then,  as  it  was  a  clear,  crisp 

ber  morning,  I  went  out  through  the  gardens 

park,  that  I  might  walk  along  the  well-kept 

road  and  meditate  upon  my  course  of  action,  oi 

think  over  what  had  been  said,  because  I  cc 

map  my  route  until  I  had  heard  the  secret  w 

Lady  Alicia  promised  to  impart.     As  at  pre 

structed,  it  seemed  to  me  the  best  way  to  g 

to  the  young  man,  show  him  as  effectively  as 

318 


'^fi'mn'k-'y-r^.i-^^ 


«t"»»:^li 


Imont 

s   have   been 


ifty  thousand 


vith   a   !-liglit 
y  checkmated 

;  heels,  which 
;her  of  twenty 

Are  you  de- 
son,  or  wouM 
the    emerald? 

1  in  prison  and 

choice  in  tbe 

e  necklace. " 

.ke  the  case." 

the  study  till 

,  crisp  Deceni- 

irdens  into  the 

:ll-kept  private 

tion,  or,  rather, 

se  I  could  not 

:cret  which  the 

at  present  in- 

ly  to  go  direct 

vely  as  I  could 


fVhere  th     Emeralds  were  Found 


the  danger  in  which  he  stood,  and,  if  possible,  per- 
suade him  to  deliver  up  the  necklace  to  me.  As  I 
strolled  along  under  the  grand  old  leafless  trees,  I 
suddenly  heard  my  name  called  impulsively  two  or 
three  times,  and  turning  round  saw  the  Lady  Alicia 
running  toward  me.  Her  cheeks  were  bright  with 
nature's  rouge,  and  her  eyes  sparkled  more  dazzlingly 
than  any  emerald  that  ever  tempted  man  to  wicked- 
ness. 

"  Oh,  Monsieur  Valmont,  I  have  been  waiting  for 
you,  and  you  escaped  me.    Have  you  seen  my  uncle?  " 
"Yes;  I  have  been  with  him  since  ten  o'clock" 

"Well?" 

"Your  ladyship,  that  is  exactly  the  word  with 
which  he  accosted  me." 

"  Ah,  you  see  an  additional  likeness  between  my 
uncle  and  myself  this  morning,  then?  Has  he  told 
you  about  Mr.  Carter?" 

"  Yes." 

"  So  now  you  understand  how  important  it  is  that 
I  should  regain  possession  of  my  property?  " 

"  Yes,"  I  said  with  a  sigh ;  "  the  house  near  Hyde 
Park  and  the  great  estate  in  Derbyshire." 

She  clapped  her  hands  with  glee,  eyes  and  feet 
dancing  in  unison,  as  she  capered  along  gayly  beside 
me;  a  sort  of  skippety-hop,  skippety-hop,  sideways, 
keeping  pace  with  my  more  stately  step,  as  if  she  were 
a  little  girl  of  six  instead  of  a  young  woman  of  twenty. 

"Not  only  that!"  she  cried,  "but  one  million 
pounds  to  spend!    Oh,  Monsieur  Valmont,  you  know 

319 


i.y-7w 


The  Triumphs  of  Eugene  Valmont 


Paris,  and  yet  you  do  not  seem  to  comprehend 
that  plethora  of  money  means  I  " 

"Well,  madame,  I  have  seen  Paris,  and  T 
seen  a  good  deal  of  the  world,  but  I  am  not  so  c( 
you  will  secure  the  million  to  spend." 

"What!"   she   cried,   stopping   short,   that 
wrinkle  which  betokened  temper  appearing  oi 
brow.     "  Do  you  think  we  won't  get  thr  emc 

then?" 

"  Oh,  I  am  sure  we  will  get  the  emeralds.  I 
mont.  pledge  you  my  word.  But  if  Mr.  Jonas  ( 
before  marriage  calls  a  halt  upon  the  ceremony 
your  uncle  places  fifty  thousand  pounds  upon  the 
I  confess  I  am  very  pessimistic  about  your  obt 
control  of  the  million  afterwards." 

All  her  vivacity  instantaneously  returned. 
•'  Pooh ! "  she  cried,  dancing  round  in  front 
and  standing  there  directly   in     ^  path,   so 
came  to  a  stand.    "  Pooh!  "  she  repeated,  snappi 
fingers,  with  an  inimitable  gesture  of  that  lovelj 
"  Monsieur  Valmont,  I  am  disappointed  in  you 
are  not  nearly  so  nice  as  you  were  last  evening 
very  uncomplimentary  in  you  to  intimate  tha' 
once  I  am  married  to  Mr.  Jonas  I  shall  not  v 
from  him  all  the  money  I  want     Do  not  rest  yo 
on  the  ground;  look  at  me  and  answer!" 

I  glanced  up  at  ht  ,  and  could  not  forbear  lai 
The  witchery  of  the  wood  was  in  that  girl ;  ycf 
perceptible  trace  of  the  Gallic  devil  flickered  i 
enchanting  eyes  of  hers.    I  could  not  help  my 

320 


mont 


chend  what 

and  1  have 
)t  so  certain 

,  that  httle 
•ing  on  l.vr 
\r  emcralils, 

lids.  I,  Val- 
Jonas  Carter 
■cmony  until 
)on  the  tal)lc, 
lur  obtaining 

ned. 

front  of  tne, 
h,  so  that  I 
snapping  her 
t  lovely  hand, 
in  you.  You 
vening.  It  i^ 
te  tha-'.  wlif^n 
1  not  wheedle 
rest  your  eyes 

bear  laughing. 
irl ;  yes,  and  a 
cered  in  those 
elp  myself. 


Where  the  Emeralds  were  Found 


I 


"  Ah,  Madame  la  Marquise  dc  Bcllairs,  how 
jauntily  you  would  scatter  despair  in  that  susceptible 
court  of  Louis !  " 

"Ah,  Monsieur  Eugene  de  Valmont."  she  cried, 
mimicking  my  tones,  and  imitating  my  manner  with 
an  exactitude  that  amazed  me,  "you  are  once  more 
my  dear  de  Valmont  of  last  night.  I  dreamed  of  you, 
1  assure  yon  I  did,  and  now  to  find  you  in  the  morning, 
oh,  so  changed  !  "  She  clasped  her  little  hands  and  in- 
clined her  head,  while  the  sweet  voice  sank  into  a 
cadence  of  melancholy  which  seemed  so  genuine  that 
the  mocking  ripple  of  a  laugh  immediately  following 
was  almost  a  shock  to  me.  Where  had  this  creature 
of  the  dull  English  countryside  learned  all  such  frou- 
froH  of  gesture  and  tone? 

"Have  you  ever  seen  Sarah  Bernhardt?"  I  asked. 

Now,  the  average  Englishwoman  would  have  in- 
quired the  genesis  of  so  inconsequent  a  q  -  ♦'on,  but 
Lady  Alicia  followed  the  trend  of  my  thought,  and  an- 
swered at  once  as  if  my  query  had  been  quite  ex- 
pected : 

"  Mais  non,  monsieur.  Sarah  the  Divine !  Ah,  she 
comes  with  my  million  a  year  and  the  house  of  Hyde 
Park.  No.  the  only  inhabitant  of  my  real  world  whom 
1  have  yet  seen  is  Monsieur  Valmont,  and  he,  alas! 
I  find  so  changeable.  But  now,  adieu  frivolity;  we 
must  be  serious,"  and  she  walked  sedately  by  my 
side. 

"Do  you  know  where  you  are  going,  monsieur? 
Vou  are  going  to  church.    Oh,  do  not  look  frightened ; 

321 


v&a^-'i.^ 


Mtli 


The  Triumphs     f  Eugene  Valmont 


not  to  a  service.  I  am  do  rating  the  church 
holly,  and  you  shMl  heln  ;.  and  get  thorns  ir 
poor  fingers." 

The  private  road,       y\\  i:>  to  this  time  had 
through  a  forest,  nov    rcruh.  d  a  secluded  gli 
which  stood  a  very  sn-..11,  1  -  i  exquisite,  churc 
dently  centuries  older  tt  an  i!;i   mar  = '•    >ve  ha 
Beyond  it  were  gray      'ii'^  r-    •  ich  Lady 

pointed  out  to  me  as  r  n'.nans  <i    he  origina 
sion  that  had  been  bui  i   ii.  'Iw'  r     ,.i  of  the 
Henry.    The  church,  it   was  thuugtit,  formed  t 
vate  chapel  to  the  hall   and  it  had  been  kept  in 
by  the  various  lords  of  the  manor. 

"  l\c  J  hearken  to  the  power  of  the  poor,  an 

how  ihey  may  flout  the  proud  marquis,"  crie( 

Alicia   gleefully;   "the   poorest   man   in   Englai 

walk  along  this  private  road  on  Sunday  to  the 

and  the  proud  marquis  is  powerless  to  prevei 

Of  course,  if  the  poor  man  prolongs  his  walk  th^ 

ir.  danger  from  the  law  of  trespass.     On  w-e 

however,  this  is  the  most  secluded  spot  on  the 

and  I  regret  to  say  that  my  lordly  uncle  d^ 

trouble  it  even  on  Sundays.    I  fear  we  are  a  deg 

race,  Monsieur  Valmont,  for  doubtless  a  fight 

deeply  religious  ancestor  of  mine  built  this 

and  to  think  that  when  the  useful  masons  c« 

those  stones  together,  Madame  la  Marquise  < 

airs  or    Lady   Alicia   were   alike   unthought 

though  three  hundred  years  divide  them,  this 

chapel  makes  them  seem,  as  one  might  say,  co 

322 


>y'- 


Imont 

church  with 
orns  in  yof.r 

e  had  passeil 

led  glade  i.i 

church,  cvi- 

»ve  had  kft. 

Lady  Alicia 

ariginal  man- 

if  the  secoml 

rmed  the  ])ri- 

<ept  in  repair 

3or,  and  learn 
,"  cried  Lady 
England  may 
to  the  church, 
prevent  liini 
ralk  then  is  he 
In  w''ek  days. 
on  the  estate, 
ncle  does  not 
e  a  degenera:? 
a  fighting  and 
t  this  church, 
ions  cemente! 
quise  de  Bei;- 
Dught  of,  ar.c 
n,  this  ancient 
say,  contempo- 


tVhere  the  Emeralds  were  Found 


raries.  Oh,  Monsieur  Valmont,  what  is  the  use  of 
worrying  about  emeralds  or  anything  else?  As  I  look 
at  this  beautiful  old  church,  even  the  house  of  Hydt 
Park  appears  as  naught,"  and  to  my  amazement 
the  eyes  that  Lady  Alicia  turned  upon  me  were 
wot. 

The  front  door  was  unlocked,  and  we  walked  into 
the  church  in  silence.  Around  the  pillars  holly  and 
ivy  were  twined,  (ireat  armfuls  oi  thr  shrubs  had 
been  flung  here  and  there  along  the  wall  in  heaps,  and 
a  stepladder  stood  in  one  of  the  aisles,  showing  that 
the  decoration  of  the  edifice  was  not  yet  complete. 
.\  subdued  melancholy  had  settled  <lown  on  my  erst- 
while vivacious  companion,  the  inevitable  reaction  so 
characteristic  of  the  artistic  temperament,  augmented 
doubtless  by  the  solemnity  of  the  place,  around  whose 
walls  in  brass  and  marble  were  sculptured  memorials 
of  her  ancient  race. 

"  You  promised,"  I  said  at  last,  "  to  tell  me  how  you 
came  to  suspect " 

"  Not  here,  not  here,"  she  v/hispered ;  then  rising 
from  the  pew  in  which  she  had  seated  herself,  she 
said : 

"  Let  us  go ;  I  am  in  no  mood  for  working  this 
morninfr  I  shall  finish  the  decoration  in  the  after- 
noon." 

We  came  out  into  the  cool  and  brilliant  sunlight 
again,  and  as  we  turned  homeward,  her  spirits  im- 
mediately began  to  rise. 

"  1  am  anxious  to  know,"  I  persisted,  "  why  you 

323 


The  Triumphs  of  Eugene  Valmont 


\ 


":1 


^1 


came  to  suspect  a  man  whom  at  first  you  beli 

innocent." 

"  I  am  not  sure  but  I  believe  him  innocent 
although  I  am  forced  to  the  conclusion  that  he  ki 
where  the  treasure  is." 

"  What  forces  you  to  that  conclusion,  my  lad; 

"A  letter  I  received  from  himself,  in  whic 
makes  a  proposal  so  extraordinary  that  I  am  al 
disinclined  to  accede  to  it,  even  though  it  leads  t 
discovery  of  my  necklace.  However,  I  am  deterr 
to  leave  no  means  untried  if  I  receive  the  suppc 
my  friend.  Monsieur  Valmont." 

'  "  My  lady,"  said  I,  with  a  bow,  "  it  is  but  yoi 
command,  mine  to  obey.    What  were  the  contei 

that  letter?" 

"  Read  it,"  she  replied,  taking  the  folded  sheet 

her  pocket  and  handing  it  to  me. 

She  had  been  quite  right  in  characterizing  th( 

as   an   extraordinary   epistle.     The   Honorable 

Haddon  had  the  temerity  to  propose  that  she  e 

go  through  a  form  of  marriage  with  him  in  tl 

church  we  had  just  left.    If  she  did  that,  he  s 

would  console  him  for  the  mad  love  he  felt  fc 

The  ceremony  would  have  no  binding  force  upc 

whatever,  and  she  might  bring  whom  she  plea 

perform  it.    If  she  knew  no  one  that  she  could 

he  would  invite  an  old  college  chum,  and  bring 

the  church  next  morning  at  half  past  seven  c 

Even  if  an  ordained  clergyman  performed  th( 

mony,  it  would  not  be  legal  unless  it  took  ph 

324 


nont 


)U  believed 

ocent  now, 
t  he  knows 

ny  lady?" 
1  which  he 

am  almost 
leads  to  the 

determined 
:  support  of 

5Ut  yours  to 
contents  oi 

d  sheet  from 

;ing  the  note 
orable  John 
t  she  should 
n  in  the  old 
t,  he  said,  it 
felt  for  her, 
rce  upon  her 
le  pleased  to 
;  could  trust, 
bring  him  to 
even  o'clock. 
led  the  cere- 
Dok  place  be- 


Where  the  Emeralds  were  Found 


tween  the  hours  of  eight  in  the  morning  and  three  in 
the  afternoon.  If  she  consented  to  this,  the  emeralds 
were  hers  once  more. 

"  This  is  the  proposal  of  a  madman,"  said  I,  as  I 
handed  back  the  letter. 

"Well,"  she  replied,  with  a  nonchalant  shrug  of 
her  shoulders,  "  he  has  always  said  he  was  madly  in 
love  with  me,  and  I  quite  believe  it.  Poor  young  man, 
if  this  mummery  were  to  console  him  for  the  rest  of 
his  life,  why  should  I  not  indulge  him  in  it?" 

"  Lady  Alicia,  surely  you  would  not  countenance 
the  profaning  of  that  lovely  old  edifice  with  a  mock 
ceremonial  ?  No  man  in  his  senses  could  suggest  such 
a  thing!" 

Once  more  her  eyes  were  twinkling  with  merri- 
ment. 

"  But  the  Honorable  John  Haddon,  as  I  have  told 
you,  is  not  in  his  senses." 

"Then  why  should  you  indulge  him?" 

"Why?  How  can  you  ask  such  a  question?  Be- 
cause of  the  emeralds.  It  is  only  a  mad  lark,  after  all, 
and  no  one  need  know  of  it.  Oh,  Monsieur  Valmont," 
she  cried  pleadingly,  clasping  her  hands,  and  yet  it 
seemed  to  me  with  an  undercurrent  of  laughter  in  her 
beseeching  tones,  "  will  you  not  enact  for  us  the  part 
of  clergyman  ?  I  am  sure  if  your  face  were  as  serious 
as  it  is  at  this  moment,  the  robes  of  a  priest  would 
become  you." 

"  Lady  Alicia,  you  are  incorrigible.  I  am  some- 
what of  a  man  of  the  world,  yet  I  should  not  dare  to 

325 


^» 


^ 


The  Triumphs  of  Eugene  Valmont 

counterfeit  the  sacred  office,  and  I  hope  you  but 
In  fact,  I  am  sure  you  do,  my  lady." 

She  turned  away  from  me  with  a  very  p 
pout. 

"  Monsieur  Valmont,  your  knighthood  is,  aftf 
but  surface  deep.     'Tis  not  mine  to  command, 
yours  to  obey.     Certainly  I  did  but  jest.    John 
bring  his  own  imitation  clergyman  with  him." 

"  Are  you  going  to  meet  him  to-morrow?  " 

"  Certainly  I  am.  I  have  promised.  I  must  s 
my  necklace." 

"  You  seem  to  place  great  confidence  in  the 
that  he  will  produce  it." 

"  If  he  fails  to  do  so,  then  I  play  Monsieur 
mont  as  my  trump  card.  But,  monsieur,  altli 
you  quite  rightly  refuse  to  comply  with  my  fin 
quest,  you  will  surely  not  reject  my  second.  I 
meet  me  to-morrow  at  the  head  of  the  av 
promptly  at  a  quarter  past  seven,  and  escort  me  t 
church." 

For  a  moment  the  negative  trembled  or 
tongue's  end,  but  she  turned  those  enchanting 
upon  me,  and  I  was  undone. 

"  Very  well,"  I  answered 

She  seized  both  my  hands,  like  a  little  girl 
joyed  at  a  promised  excursion. 

"  Oh,  Monsieur  Valmont,  you  are  a  darling! 
as  if  I'd  known  you  all  my  life.    I  am  sure  yoi 
never  regret  having  humored  me,"  then  added  « 
ment  later,  "  if  we  get  the  emeralds." 

326 


mont 


ou  but  jest. 

very   pretty 

is,  after  all, 
imand,  and 
John  shall 
im. 


w 


?" 


must  secure 

n  the  belief 

insieur  Val- 
ir,  although 
my  first  re- 
md.  Please 
the  avenue, 
rt  me  to  the 

led  on  my 
anting  eyes 


le  girl  over- 
ling! Heel 
are  you  will 
idded  a  mo- 


fVhere  the  Emeralds  were  Found 


"  Ah,"  said  I,  "  if  we  get  the  emeralds." 

We  were  now  within  sight  of  the  house,  and  she 
pointed  out  our  rendezvous  for  the  following  day,  and 
with  that  I  bade  her  good-by. 

It  was  shortly  after  seven  o'clock  next  morning 
when  I  reached  Kie  meeting  place.  The  Lady  Alicia 
was  somewhat  long  in  coming,  but  when  she  arrived 
her  face  was  aglow  with  girlish  delight  at  the  solemn 
prank  she  was  about  to  play. 

"You  have  not  changed  your  mind?"  I  asked, 
after  the  morning's  greetings. 

"  Oh,  no.  Monsieur  Valmont,"  she  replied,  with  a 
bright  laugh.  "  I  am  determined  to  recover  those 
emeralds." 

"  We  must  hurry,  Lady  Alicia,  or  we  will  be  too 
late." 

"There  is  plent>  of  time,"  she  remarked  calmly; 
and  she  proved  to  be  right,  because  when  we  came  in 
sight  of  the  church,  the  clock  pointed  to  the  hour  of 
half  past  seven. 

"  Now,"  she  said,  "  I  shall  wait  here  until  you  steal 
up  to  the  church  and  look  in  through  one  of  the  win- 
dows that  do  not  contain  stained  glass.  I  should  not 
for  the  world  arrive  before  Mr.  Haddon  and  his  friend 
are  there." 

I  did  as  requested,  and  saw  two  young  men  stand- 
ing together  in  the  center  aisle,  one  in  the  full  robes 
of  a  clerg)'man,  the  other  in  his  ordinary  dress,  whom 
I  took  to  be  the  Honorable  John  Haddon.  His  profile 
was  toward  me,  and  I  must  admit  there  was  very  little 

327 


i-T'.'-;;'*®'B5S5'SBt. 


The  Triumphs  of  Eugene  Valmont 


of  the  mpdman  in  his  calm  countenance.  His  v 
well-cut  {.-ice,  clean  shaven,  and  strikingly  manly 
one  of  the  pews  was  seated  a  woman— I  learned  i 
wards  she  was  Lady  Alicia's  maid,  who  had  bee 
structed  to  come  and  go  from  the  house  by  a 
path,  while  we  had  taken  the  longer  road.  I  reti 
and  escorted  Lady  Alicia  to  the  church,  and  ther( 
introduced  to  Mr.  Haddon  and  his  friend,  the  ma 
divine.  The  ceremony  was  at  once  performed, 
man  of  the  world  as  I  professed  myself  to  be,  th 
acting  of  private  theatrical,  in  a  church  grated 
me.  When  the  maid  and  I  were  asked  to  sig 
book  as  witnesses  I  said : 

"  Surely  this  is  carrying  realism  a  little  too 

Mr.  Haddon  smiled,  and  replied : 

"  I  am  amazed  to  hear  a  Frenchman  objecti 
realism  going  to  its  full  length,  and  speaking  fo 
self,  I  should  be  delighted  to  see  the  autograph 
renowned  Eugene  Valmont,"  and  with  that  he 
fered  me  the  pen,  whereupon  I  scrawled  my  sign 
The  maid  had  already  signed,  and  disappeared, 
reputed  clergyman  bowed  us  out  of  the  church, 
ing  in  the  porch  to  see  us  walk  up  the  avenue. 

"Ed,"  cried  John  Haddon,  "I'll  be  back  ^ 
half  an  hour,  and  we'll  attend  to  the  clock.  You 
mind  waiting?" 

"  Not  in  the  least,  dear  boy.    God  bless  you 
and  the  tremor  in  his  voice  seemed  to  me  ca 
realism  one  step  farther  still. 

The  Lady  Alicia,  with  downcast  head,  hurt 

328 


mont 

His  was  a 
manly.    1  n 
arned  after- 
ad  been  in- 
by  a  foot- 
I  returncil 
d  there  was 
■he  made-up 
ormed,  and, 
be,  this  en- 
Efrated  upon 
to  sign  the 

le  too  far?" 

objecting  to 
dng  for  my- 
graph  of  the 
lat  he  prof- 
ly  signature. 
)eared.  The 
lurch,  stand- 
enue. 

back  within 
.    You  won't 


Where  the  Emeralds  were  Found 


i 


on  until  we  were  within  the  gloom  of  the  forest, 
and  then,  ignoring  me.  she  turned  suddenly  to  the 
young  man,  and  placed  her  two  hands  on  his  shoul- 
ders. 

"  Oh,  Jack,  Jack !  "  she  cried. 

He  kissed  her  twice  on  the  lips. 

"Jack,  Monsieur  Valmont  insists  on  the  emeralds  " 

The   young   man   laughed.      Her    ladyship    stood 
frontmg  him  with  her  back  toward  me.    Tenderly  the 
young  man  unfastened  something  at  the  throat  of  that 
h.gh-necked  dress  of  hers,  then  there  was  a  snap,  and 
he  drew  out  an  amazing,  dazzling,  shimmering  sheen 
of  green,  that  seemed  to  turn  the  whole  bleak  Decem- 
ber landscape  verdant  as  with  a  touch  of  spring     The 
girl  hid  her  rosy  face  against  him.  and  over  her  shoul- 
der, with  a  smile,  he  handed  me  the  celebrated  Blair 
emeralds. 

"  There  is  the  treasure,  Valmont,"  he  cried,  "  on 
condition  that  you  do  not  molest  the  culprit." 

"Or  the  accessory  after  the  fact,"  gurgled  Lady 
Ahcia  in  smothered  tones,  with  a  hand  clasping  to- 
gether her  high-necked  dress  at  the  throat. 

"  We  trust  to  your  invention.  Valmont,  to  deliver 
that  necklace  to  uncle  with  a  detective  story  that  will 
thrill  him  to  his  very  heart." 

We  heard  the  clock  strike  eight ;  then  a  second 
later  smaller  bells  chimed  a  quarter  past,  and  another 
second  after,  they  tinkled  the  half  hour.  "Hello'" 
cned  Haddon.  "  Ed  has  attended  to  the  clock  himself, 
w  hat  a  good  fellow  he  is." 

^'-  329 


The  Triumphs  of  Eugene  Valmont 


I  looked  at  my  watch ;  it  was  twenty-five  mi 

to  nine. 

"  Was  the  ceremony  genuine,  then  ?  "  I  askec 
"  Ah,  Valmont,"  said  the  young  man,  pattin 

wife  affectionately  on  the  shoulder,  "  nothing  on 

can  be  more  genuine  than  that  ceremony  was." 
And  the  volatile  Lady  Alicia  snuggled  clo? 

him. 


THE   END 


330 


mont 


\ve  minutes 

[  asked, 
patting  liis 
ing  on  earth 
was." 
;d  closer  to 


('j> 


WHERE    LOVE    CONQUERS. 


The  Reckoning. 

By  Robert  W.  Chambers. 

The  author's  intention  is  to  treat,  in  a  scries  of  four  or  five 
romances,  that  part  of  the  war  for  independence  which  particularly 
aftected  the  great  landed  families  of  northern  New  York  the 
Johnsons,  represented  by  Sir  William.  Sir  John,  Guy  Johnson,  and 
Colonel  Claus;  the  notonous  Butlers,  father  and  son.  the  Schuylcrs 
Van  Rensselaers,  and  others. 

The  first  romance  of  the  series,  Cardigan,  was  followed  by  the 
second.  The  Maid-at-Arms.  The  third,  in  order,  is  not  completed. 
The  fourth  is  the  present  volume. 

c-  ^rn-^'^'^T^u  P''^'^"'Jed  to  portray  life  on  the  baronial  estate  of 
Sir  William  Johnson,  the  first  uneasiness  concerning  the  coming 
trouble,  the  first  discordant  note  struck  in  the  harmonious  councils 
of  the  Long  House,  so.  in  The  Maid-at-Arms,  which  followed  in 
order,  the  author  attempted  to  paint  a  patroon  family  disturbed  by 
the  approaching  rumble  of  battle.  That  romance  dealt  with  the 
first  serious  split  in  the  Iroquois  Confederacy ;  it  showed  the  Long 
House  shattered  though  not  fallen ;  the  demoralization  and  final 
Might  of  the  great  landed  families  who  remained  loyal  to  the  British 
Crown;  and  it  struck  the  key-note  to  the  future  attitude  of  the 
Iroquois  toward  the  patriots  of  the  frontier— revenge  for  their 
losses  at  the  battle  of  Oriskany— and  ended  with  the  march  of  the 
militia  and  continental  troops  on  Saratoga. 

The  third  romance,  as  yet  incomplete  and  unpublished,  deals 
with  the  war-path  and  those  who  followed  it  led  by  the  landed 
gentry  of  Tryon  County ;  and  ends  with  the  first  solid  blow  de- 
livered at  the  Long  House,  and  the  terrible  punishment  of  the 
ureat  Confederacy. 

The  present  romance,  the  fourth  in  chronological  order,  picks 
up  the  thread  at  that  point.  *^ 

The  author  is  not  conscious  of  having  taken  any  liberties  with 
History  in  preparing  a  framework  of  facts  for  a  mantle  of  romance. 


New  York,  May  26, 1904. 


Robert  W.  Chambers. 


D.    APPLETON    AND    COMPANY.     NEW    YORK. 


A  SPLENDID  NEWSPAPER  YARN. 


A  Yellow  Journalist. 

By  Miriam  Michelson,  Author  of  "1 
Bishop's  Carriage,"  etc.  Illustrated.  i2mo 
namental  Cloth,  $1.50. 

This  novel  has  the  true  newspaper  thril 
from  beginning  to  end.  The  intense  des 
"cover"  one's  assignment  completely  and 
brought  out  in  the  midst  of  the  melodramf 
mosphere  in  which  a  modern  newspaper  woma 
live.  The  stories  are  all  true  to  life,  and  mixe 
the  excitement  there  is  a  wealth  of  hum( 
pathos. 

••  There  is  a  dash  about  '  A  Yellow  Journalist '  that  e> 
like  a  fresh  breeze  on  a  sharp  winter  morning." 

— Chicago  Record 

"The  book  is  bright  and  tXiXtxXsMATig"-— Minneapolis 

"  There  are  just  a  few  writers  who  have  succeeded  in 
to  paper  the  atmosphere  of  a  newspaper  office,  and  s 
appearance  of  '  A  Yellow  Journalist,'  Miriam  Michelson 
numbered  among  them." — T^e  Bookman. 

"Miss  Michelson 's  work  has  found  great  favor.  Tli 
contained  in  this  book  are  characteristic." 

—Philadelphia  Publii 

"  Only  one  with  the  genuine  journalistic  instinct,  ^ 
agonized  over  a  story  and  known  the  ecstacy  of  a  '  beat ' 
anguish  of  being  beat,  can  write  of  news-gathering 
Michelson  does.  But  she  has  other  good  qualities  in  a( 
these — a  good  dramatic  instinct,  a  piquant  humor,  and  a  k; 
of  human  nature.  The  i  -  irteen  chapters  of  'A  Yellow  J< 
are  mighty  interesting  reading." — Baltimore  News. 


D.    APPLETON    AND    COMPANY,    NEW 


ARN. 


of  "  In  the 
1 2mo.    Or- 

r  thrill  in  it 
se  desire   to 

and  well  is 

>dramatic  at- 

woman  must 

d  mixed  with 

humor  and 

that  exhilarates 

•  Record- Herald. 

eapolis  Tribune. 

eded  in  reducing 
:,  and  since  the 
chelson  must  be 

ror.    The  stories 

a  Public  Ledger. 

istinct,  who  has 
,  '  beat '  and  the 
ithering  as  Miss 
ies  in  addition  to 
and  a  knowledge 
'ellow  Journalist ' 
s. 

^EW    YORK. 


"A  btttttiftil  romance  of  the  «Uyi  of  Robert  BufM." 

Nancy  Stair. 

of  -  Mmrfr.  ?^.  ^^,''°''  Macartney  Lane,  author 
of -Mills  of  God."    Illustrated.    ,2mo.    Cloth.  $i  5a 

With  very  much  the  grace  and  cham,  of  Robert  Loui. 
Stevenson,  the  author  of  'The  Life  of  Nancy  Stair '  com! 

humTl  r'  f  Tf''^  characterization,  color,  and 
humor  She  has  also  delicacy,  dramatic  quality,  and  that 
rare  gift— historic  imagination.  h       7,      u  mac 

"  •  The  Life  of  Nancy  Stair '  is  interesting  from  the  first 
sentence  to  the  last;  the  characters  are  vital  and  Je.al^ 
most  entertaining  company;  the  denouement  unexpected 
and  picturesque  and  cleverly  led  up  to  from  one  of  the 

hh  h  tTTi  *^'."°'^  ™°^^*  '^^f^y  "d  without  a 
hitch.    Robert  Burns  is  neither  idealized  nor  caricatured : 

of  p^^/^'^^u  ""*''"'  ^*"^"»  Carmichael.  and  the  Duke 
0^  Borthewicke  are  admirably  relieved  against  each  other, 
and  Nancy  herself  as  irresistible  as  she  is  natural  To  be 
sure  she  is  a  wonderful  child,  but  then  .he  manages  to 

naturalness  are  two  of  the  charms  of  a  story  that  both 
reaches  the  heart  and  engages  the  mind,  and  which  can 

Trljl'-yl^  r"'"  ^"^  *'^^^  *  ^"««  *"d»"<=«-  A  great 
deal  of  delightful  talk  and  interesting  incidents  are  usef  for 

vei^hl!,  rr  '^  *'*  ''°'^-    ''■'^°^^^^  ^«^^»  i»  '^"l  advise 
evenrbody  he  know,  to  read  it;  and  those  who  do  not  care 

Its  luerary  quality  cannot  escape  the  interest  of  a  lore. 
'  fuU  of  incident  and  atmosphere." 

A  itctty  b««  ascribed  with  th«  word  •  chamla/- 
— >-^    _     , —WatMngtm  ftH, 


BOOKS  BY  SIR  GILBERT  PARKER. 


I    N^ 


The  Seats  of  the  Mighty. 

Being  the  Memoirs  of  Captain  Robert  Moray 
time  an  Officer  in  the  Virginia  Regiment  and  aft. 
of  Amherst 's  Regiment.     Illustrated.     $1.50- 

"Another  historical  romance  of  the  vividness  and  mte 
'The  sSts  of  he  Mighty'  has  never  come  from  the  pe, 
ArnericS  From  theist  chapter  to  the  last  word  mteresi 
bSk  nev;rwl^es:  one  finds  it  difficult  to  interrupt  the  n 
S  breathing  space.  It  whirls  with  excitement  and  stra 
venture."— CA/Vag-tf  Record. 

The  Trail  of  the  Sword.    $1  25 

"Mr.  Parker  here  adds  to  a  reputation  already  wide  a. 
demonstrates  his  power  of  pictorial  portrayal  and  of  strc 
maTc  St?on  anrclimax."-/'A//«^/^^ 

The  Trespasser.    $1.25. 

"  Interest  pith,  force,  and  charm-Mr.  Parker's  new  s 
sessesil  these  qualities.  .  .  .  Almost  bare  of  synthe  ical 
tion  his  pSlgraphs  are  stirring  because  they  are  real, 
at  timelias  we  have  read  the  great  masters  of  romance- 
XtsiVjr— The  Critic. 

The  Translation  of  a  Savage.    $1.25. 

"A  book  which  no  one  will  be  ^tisfied  to  ^ut  down 
end  has  been  matter  of  certainty  and  assurance.  -The  A 

Mrs.  Falchion.    $1.25- 

"A  well-knit  story,  told  in  an  exceedingly  interesting 
holding  the  reader's  attention  to  the  end. 

The  Pomp  of  the  Lavilettes.     i6mo.    Clot 

"Its  sincerity  and  ™gged  force  will  commend  it  to 
love  and  seek  strong  work  in  fiction.  -JAecrtttc. 

D.    APPI.ETON    AND    COMPANY.    NEW 


KER. 


Moray,  somc- 
,nd  afterward 

and  intensit\    f 

the  pen  of  an 

interest  in  the 

pt  the  narrative 

and  strange  ad- 


wide,  and  anew 
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5  new  story  po:.- 

nthetical  decor.i- 

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cresting  way.  and 


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NEW    YORK 


LOVE. 


MYSTERY. 


VENICE. 


The  Clock  and  the  Key. 

By  Arthur  Henry  Vesey.  i2mo.  Ornamental 
Cloth,  $1.50. 

This  is  a  tale  of  a  mystery  connected  with  an  old  clock. 
The  lover,  an  American  man  of  means,  is  startled  out  of 
his  sensuous,  inactive  life  in  Venice  by  his  lady-love's  scorn 
for  his  indolence.  She  begs  of  him  to  perform  any  task 
that  will  prove  his  persistence  and  worth.  With  the  charm 
of  Venice  as  a  background,  one  follows  the  adventures  of 
the  lover  endeavoring  to  read  the  puzzling  hints  of  the  old 
clock  as  to  the  whereabouts  of  the  famous  jewels  of  many 
centuries  ago.  After  following  many  false  clues  ihe  lover 
ultimately  solves  the  mystery,  triumphs  over  his  rivals,  and 
wins  the  girl. 

AMERICA. 

"  For  an  abiorbing  story  it  would  be  haid  to  \xaX."—Harp*r's  IVttkfy. 
ENGLAND. 

"  It  will  hold  the  reader  till  the  last  ftLS^.^—lAmdon  Timts. 
SCOTLAND. 
-Glasg^h^f^  '"'^*'^  ^^  comparison  with  Poe's  immortal '  Gold  Bug.*  •• 


NORTH. 

"  It  ought  to  make  a  record."— JfontreaJ  Sun. 
SOUTH. 

-unique.-^S^Ki^j;.^.^*"'^  ''''"'•^''  "°"»"  storie-charoiB, 
EAST. 

"  Don't  fail  to  get  it."-AVw  VorA  Stifi. 
WEST. 

Tou  ti'burn  Ih^L*J'''*ui"*^n^'"7.°U°'"8^  »"<!  mystery,  which  will  cause 
IP-    APPLETON    AND    COMPANY.    NEW    YORK. 


i      !; 


A  GOOD  AUT(»K>BILE  STORl 


i 

i     1 

■ 
: 

' 

i 

r. 

>i 

•» 

r 

Baby  Bullet. 

By  Lloyd  Osbourne,  Author  of  ♦•  Th 
manUct."  Illustrated.  lamo.  Ornament 
$1.50- 

This  it  the  joIUcst,  moit  ddightfully  hunu 
■torjr  that  has  been  written  in  the  last  ten  yei 
Bullet  b  sn  **  orphan  automobile."  It  is  all  th 
adopticm  of  Baby  Bullet  by  her  travelling  compi 
a  dear,  sweet,  human  modem  giri  meets  a  very  n 
nan,  and  a  double  romance  is  begun  and  finisl 
automobiling  tour  through  England. 

"Th*  Italy  it  aMWtkly  written,  fuU  of  action  aad  hat 

—PkUatlt^kim  Ft 

yB^  BidiM'  It  withoot  doabt  th*  b«t  written  tnd 
taiaiaf  MtonobUe  itoiy  yet  pabUihed.    The  moit  cnjorabi 
"T_?*r  .*•  **"  «"««*»^  wifofced  hvmor.  which  &idt  ezi 
^ia  Indicrmu  titaatkmi.  but  in  bright  and  ipirited  dii 
flMcrmtiaa  tad  aatwid  ^UMteriMtion?'— jy.  Pattl  Dufak 

'•  Certain  itoriet  there  are  'that  a  nan  ferrenUv  withe 
daim  at  hb  own.    Of  these, '  Baby  Ballet '  it  mm."— JMk'tM 

"It  it  Imad  cMMdy,  fiUl  of  adveatwoot  fan,  derer  an 
The  tale  U  faacinatim|  from  the  ttart.  The  adTeatorea  of  I 
are  dutiactiy  fanBy.''--Arra>  Var*  Sim. 

""nie  charactcn  are  lighdy  drawn,  4)ut  with  great  ham 
stoiy  that  refrcthct  a  tiied  brahi  and  prorokct  a  li^t  heart." 

-CJUai 
"  It  it  a  mott  tatitfyiag  and  hamoroot  narrative." 

— ImdiaM^ 
"One  of  the  fnnnlctt  icenet  In  recent  fiction  it  the  et< 
antomobile  party  from  the  peroxide  blcode  who  hat  aat« 
adTertitement  «w  a  Outpmrnr—SoM  Fra$uut»  CkrtmeU. 


D.  APPLBTOW  AND  COMPANY,  NEW 


01374331 


rroRY. 


f  "The  Motor. 
lamenUl  Qoth, 


)r  humorous  lovf| 
ten  yean.  Babyj 
I  all  through  thej 
(companion  thatj 
veiy  nice  young] 
d  finiihed  on  an  [ 


and  hMdthlU  fuB .'  | 
4*Am  FmUU  Ltdftr. 

ten  sad  most  enter>  | 
cnioxabk  tetare  of  { 
not  tzprnsion  noi 
rited  dJidogac,  keen 

If  wiihM  be  micht 
'BulHmtrt  Sun. 

IcTtr  aad  effective. 
uey  of  Baby  Bullet 

peat  bnaior.    It  is* 
t  beart." 
—Cki€«g»  Tribum. 

•IndianaptHs  News. 

I  tbe  escape  of  the 
bat  aaswctcd  their 
mieU. 


NEW    YORK. 


10379 


